Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Robbie in a Tie

I remember Robbie in that tie
The day the school took us to New York
Just for the day

Connecticut prep school
A trip to see a Tennessee Williams play
The irony only now reaching me

Suppressed as a I was
A teenaged bottle of hormones
And energy
And this crush

This harmless crush
On the sophomore chaperone

Robbie offered to be one of the five seniors
Keeping an eye on us
Because he wanted a free trip to the city
He wanted a day pass out of the prison

To go to some museum
And meet the guy he'd been talking to online

I remember how polished he looked
Almost like he'd been styled by a professional

While I was sloppy
Untucked shirt
Poorly knotted tie
Scuffed shoes
A few too many pounds
Around my waist

Robbie was the after
To my before
But I didn't know that at the time

I didn't even know
How in love with him I was

I thought it was a simple idolization
An older-brother-younger-brother kind of thing
Until he put his hand on my shoulder in the bookstore we'd all stopped in
And said--'Hey kid, let's go'

He didn't even know my name
But I knew his
And just that touch
That quick touch
That little bit of attention
And I was hooked on him

I stayed hooked for a long time

Even after that spring
When he graduated
I held onto him in my mind
And that day in New York

I had dreams about how it could have been
The two of us--Robbie and I
Riding the subway to Coney Island
Or walking through that museum together

Sitting in Central Park
Talking about which college we'd go to together
NYU or Oxford?

Even now, years later
Over a decade, actually

I still see that smirk on his face
When I turned around and stuttered something
Something that was supposed to be clever
And how he just laughed kindly at me
And then put his arm around my shoulder
And led me out of the store

I don't remember many physical things
The body gets used to certain sensations

A kiss
A punch
Even an...

Well, you know

But that arm around me
Around my shoulder

There isn't a part of me
That can forget that
What that was

Suddenly I wasn't a kid who knew everything
Suddenly I was an adult who knew nothing

In a great big wonderful city
With the boy of my dreams

And even though the circumstances
Weren't in our favor
The memory shapes itself over time

It becomes more and more ideal

It's like a gift your mind gives you
So you can keep on living
Without having your heart be broken
Over and over again

Robbie moved to California
After he graduated
And I never heard from him again

I guess I could find him now
If I really wanted to

Who knows what would happen?

The weight around the waist is gone
And I can tie my tie

Overall, I'm a little more polished
Than I was then

But why spoil what my memory has tried so hard
To make perfect?

Why go back to New York?

Like so many things
It's far more beautiful
From far, far away

In the Bones

Six years after my father died
My mother was still wearing black

She wanted people to know
She was in mourning

She wanted to make that clear

Six months after Ted died
I wore my favorite red dress to a bar
And picked a man
Who looked nothing like Ted

I fragmented
I know that now
I split into so many parts

The grieving
The struggling
The surviving
The living
The dead

They say grieving is a process
But so often
It comes upon you all at once
All facets of it
Turning you around
To face parts of yourself
You didn't even know existed

My mother wore black
To signify her grieving
Because she felt...

I suppose she worried
That people would notice
How happy she was
That my father was dead

He was a very cruel man
And when he died
She mourned him only out of tradition

When Ted died
I didn't need a physical manifestation of my grieving
To signal to people
How painful it was

If anything, I needed to show people
That I was all right
That I could carry on

I didn't want anyone worrying about me
So I put on red dresses
And went to bars
Drank
Smoked
Flirted with men
And people saw this
People who knew me
And they called it 'healthy'

Even the people who knew Ted
Who knew me
Who knew I was well past the age
When it's attractive for a woman
To be kissing a strange man on a dance floor
Even with Sam Cooke blessing the whole thing
Everyone who saw me was just so relieved
That I wasn't falling apart

Nobody imagines that you can fall in
That you can fall inside yourself
Where the grief hides
And have it hold you hostage

I only wore black once
But when it was back in the closet
Tucked away where we used to keep the kids' Christmas presents
I still felt it
It wasn't something
I could take off

It was in my bones
Under my skin
Behind my eyes
Growing out of me

Like the tears
Like the sobs
Like the muscles in my body
Weak from shaking with disbelief

I took a man home from a bar
Because he was wearing my husband's cologne
And I wanted to fall asleep
With that smell wrapped around me

I wanted to wake up to it
It didn't matter to me
That the man
Left in the middle of the night
Without so much as a kiss on my neck

All that mattered was that I woke up
With the scent of my husband
On the pillow
For the first time in...

Quite awhile

By then the drinking had already gotten out of hand
And I felt myself being compelled to try stronger distractions
Things that would keep me numb
For longer periods of time

Someone should have noticed
But I wasn't missing work
And I wasn't snapping at anyone
And I wasn't losing a drastic amount of weight
So...

...Well I don't want to say nobody cared
But 'Nobody felt like they had the time to care'
Is, I think, a fair statement

Besides, it would have had to be a hunch
A speculation
There was no physical evidence
Of what was happening inside me

It was chemical
Transformational
How could it not be?

I had lost a part of myself
My body, my mind
It was making up for it
It was creating something new
To go where the old me had been

Maybe that isn't the most progressive statement
But it's true

I lost Ted
And suddenly being the person I was
When he was alive
Was no longer an option

A good wife
A good mother
An overall stable person

None of that made sense to me anymore

And so I had to start from scratch

My language changed
My reactions to things
How I saw colors
And shapes
I'm not exaggerating
This is all fact

A sign near my house over a store
Suddenly became neon red
Instead of light blue

And the 'e' went out, or at least
I thought it did
And nobody ever bothered to fix it

Nobody seemed to care about
How bad it looked

The things people don't notice...

And all the while
I was re-forming
Transitioning myself

Everyone thought Ted was gone
But I was gone too
We went together
How else could it be?

How else could it possibly be?

The only thing I took with me were my bones
And even they were saturated
With this past burden
This heavy bitterness
That lingered
Like salt on the tongue

The grief still hung on
In the bones
And that was something
No strange men
Or blue pills
Or red dresses could fix

It was determined to never leave me

And I didn't try to banish it
Because it felt like...

Like the only real part of Ted
That I had left

The only part that felt strong enough
Agonizing, but full, intensely full

So I let it stay
Resting there
Inside my structure

But I carried on as someone else

A lesser someone?

Maybe

But still strong

Still made up
Of unbreakable things

Sunday, October 28, 2012

The Hollow Places

I don't know what to say about him
Just that he fills up all the hollow places

You know, you get married
I've been married
Did I tell you that?

Once or twice
Depending on who you ask

The second wedding was sort of hush hush
I thought, Okay, let's see where this goes
Turns out it didn't go anywhere

I don't blame myself for that
I don't blame him either
I sort of...closed myself off
But I didn't know I was doing it

I went around feeling so fine, you know?

That's the dangerous spot to be in
To think you're fine
When you're really a big mess

I kept getting into arguments with people
Snapping at them
Always in everybody's face
And I thought--Well, this is confident me
This is the me I'm supposed to be
This no-nonsense, take-no-bullshit bitch
Who just says and does
Whatever she wants

Finally, I'm tough

Then I meet him
And I feel...vulnerable

Although that's a fancy word for it
It's really just that I'm soft

All of a sudden, I'm soft again
Like I'm a kid
And it's...scary

I'm suddenly aware
Of all these places inside myself
That I let get emptied out

Like a house that was once beautifully furnished
Suddenly I'm looking around and realizing
That I moved out, checked out
A long time ago

It's like I was sitting in an empty room
On the floor, uncomfortable
Thinking it was cozy or something
And then he came along and...

Suddenly there's a chair
There's a place for me to sit
I belong somewhere
Nothing's...hollow

I feel all this space filling up
With, like, a future for myself
Possibilities

That's what he did
He took the hollow places

And made them a home

Impressive, right?

Yeah...

I thought so too

Thursday, October 25, 2012

We Didn't Hide Them

Now, when they write
They write about the hidden
Or the people who facilitated the hiding

They do not write about us
We are not worthy of being written about

Even though we also survived
Even though things were not easy for us
Even though our lives were also in danger
Just for existing in such a place
At such a time

All because we were not heroes
We were not valiant or bold

I can only speak for myself
And say that I am not ashamed
We didn't hide them

I was the father, the patriarch
I was in charge
And I had a family, my family
To think about
To consider

I don't need books written about how I kept my family safe
And I don't need books written about how I did or didn't keep other families safe

It's so easy to judge
From fifty, sixty, seventy years on
About what some of us didn't do

But what you are talking about is not mere courage
The ability to risk everything for people who are not your responsibility
Total strangers in some cases

And though I applaud those who were bold
Who did step into the line of fire
For those innocents, and yes, I do know they were innocent
Who is responsible for asking these same people
These people who took on the burdens of others
Who will ask these people--
Weren't you worried about your own flock?
Your own blood?

Did you not consider
Really consider
What would have happened
If you'd been caught?

What they would have done to your wives?
Your children?

And all for what?

Goodness?

What is good?

I don't--I...

. . . . . .

I am one of the ones
Who should have been hiding

But my wife...
She is not

So our children
Are not

But I...

And I've never looked--
Never resembled

I look like my father
Who was Scandanavian
Very fine features
Nobody's ever asked if I was...

So when they knocked on the door
One day
Our neighbors
This family
I...

They'd been over
They knew we had a room
A room behind our kitchen
Hard to see
Especially if you were to put a cupboard in front of the door
No windows in there
So...

They were so scared
But my daughter
She was...

She was one then, one and a half
And she was crying
In the background
I could hear her crying
And this family standing in front of me
And my wife at the market
My wife who was good
Who would have hid these people
Without a second thought
People who I shared a...

And who she didn't, really
Share anything
With

But she would have hid them
She would have done it
In a second

Ushered them in
And not thought anything of it

But I couldn't

Because...

Because if I opened the door one day
And the police were on the other side
Would they look at me
And know?

Would they recognize?

Nobody ever did
But would they?

How could I know?

What if these people brought danger
To my house?

It was dangerous

I...

. . . . .

I shut the door

And that was that

My daughter stopped crying
My wife came home
Made dinner
We chatted about...nothing

And I never saw that family again

Those people
My neighbors
They just...

Never came back

. . . . .

I am not brave
I am not bold
But am I good?

Can I be a coward
And still be a good person?

Can I take care of my family
Of my own
And not my brother
Not be his keeper
And still be pious?

Still be...right?

Can I?

Somebody tell me

Somebody tell me now that I've shown my face
Now that I've come out of hiding
And spoken my truth

Tell me now that you can see me
Just who it is
I am

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

I Don't Have Three Years

Look, I appreciate that you are a guarded person
I love guarded people
Somehow I always wind up marrying them
So things are looking good for you
Trust me, very good
Because I'm good
I'm good for people
I'm terrible for myself
But for others, I'm a win
A full-on win--trust me

But here's the thing--

I don't have three years

See, I know your timeline
I know the general chronological span
What it takes to break someone like you down
And I know, just by looking at you
That what I'm really looking at
Is three years--at least
Before I get to the core of who you are

And I don't have it
I don't have three years

I want to have kids
I want to have more than three kids
Less than five--maybe
But more than three
I invested in college
Some whatever stocks
And I did well
So I can afford kids
Not that I need to justify myself to you
But there it is

I want kids
And I want them soon
And I'd like to have at least two of them myself
And that means I have to get moving
And unfortunately, as I've mentioned
I tend to pick the guys
That want to keep me waiting

And I can respect everyone's, you know
Personal boundaries and limitations

But the thing is
Time's running out
And we both know
That even the deepest guys
Have a shortcut button
That they can push when they need to
In cases of emergency
Like when they want to get in the pants
Of some dumb girl at the bar

Well, guess what
Tonight--I'm the dumb girl
So take down the walls

Just long enough for me to see that it's worth
Investing you
And then we can take it from there

Okay?

I'll put in the three years
But first show me what I'm putting in for
Give me a glimpse
Because if at the end of this
I find out
That I was barking up the wrong tree
Then I'm not just out of luck

I'm out of time

That One Light On

I went up to the thirtieth floor
To investigate that one light on

No matter what time of night or early morning
No matter what building you pick out from a skyline
There's always at least one light on
In an otherwise dark building

It's always nagged at me
That one light
The way a picture hangs
Slightly crooked
On an otherwise perfect wall

I found the building I was looking for
On a cool October night
And walked right into the lobby
Where a security guard
Was waiting for me
With his arms folded

'If you're here about the light,' he says
'It's on the thirtieth floor'

Clearly, he'd been waiting for someone like me
For a very long time

I took the elevator up to the thirtieth floor
Expecting to find an exhausted man
In a white button-down shirt
And a pale red tie
Hanging loosely from around his neck
Hunched over a desk, working diligently on the Ponski account

Instead, the doors opened on a mostly bare room
With a deep red carpet
And two armchairs

In one armchair sat a man in a robe
That matched the carpet
Holding a snifter of something
And motioning for me to come forward
And sit with him in the other armchair

When I did
He explained to me
That it was his job
To watch over the city
From high atop this otherwise unremarkable office building

And what do you do if nothing happens, I ask?
--Something always happens
And what do you do when something happens, I ask?
Nothing, he says, it's not my job to do anything
It's just my job to watch

'A building with a light on signifies hope
It says that no matter what time is it or what day
There's always somebody up, awake, alive
Figuring out the problems of the world'

I shook hands with the man
And made my way back down the elevator
Past the security guard
And out into the city

When I got home
I made myself dinner
Even though it was nearly 3am
And I found that even though I had laughed to myself
When the man in the armchair
Talked about a light in an office building
Symbolizing that tired old idea of hope
I did sleep soundly that night

Moreso than I had in quite some time

A Courtyard in Florence

I don't even know his last name!

He's sitting outside on a bench
And I thought--Oh thank God
Somebody speaks English
Because he had a Yale sweatshirt on
And so I walk over and say 'Hi, I'm an American
But I went to Brown'

And he says something in Italian
And so I point to his sweatshirt and say--

'Yale?  America?  Yes?'

And he nods and then holds up his hands
Like, sort of--'No clue'

Then he holds up what he's drinking as if to say--

'You too?'

And I thought, Why not?

So I sat down

And we started, well not really talking
It was more like we were playing a flirtier version of charades

And that's how I ended up sleeping with someone
That didn't speak English

I'm not even sure he was Italian
What he was speaking sounded Italian
But for all I know
It could have been Russian

I didn't care
I didn't care about anything
It was Italy
What was there to care about?

And of course, Maggie flips out
And says--He could have been a serial killer!
He could have gotten that sweatshirt
From some poor Yale girl
That he massacred in his Volkswagen!

(Maggie thinks all serial killers drive Volkswagens
Because she watched Zodiac
And now she thinks she's an expert)

I said, 'Maggie, if we're going to be twins
--And we don't really have a choice--
Then it doesn't make any sense
For both of us to be the conservative one

There needs to be a better sense of balance'

And she sort of harrumphed
And left the hotel room
To go check out
Yet another museum

And I went down to the courtyard
And remembered the way that man said 'beautiful'
It seemed to be the only English word he knew
And he used it on me

'Beautiful'

He spread that word all over me
Like aloe, and it...

It healed something

Something I didn't know needed healing

Suddenly I was a woman
My own woman
And not somebody's twin sister
Indistinguishable from this other person
Stuck to her, really
I mean, if I'm being honest
Stuck to her

My mother used to call us conjoined
Because that's what we were
Inseparable

So maybe I did something stupid
Just to separate myself
To cut myself free

I don't know

I just know that Maggie isn't beautiful
She's not
It's just...she's not

And so I thought that meant
I couldn't be beautiful either

So when that man said--'beautiful'
I thought--it's possible

It's possible
For things
For us
To be

Different

Monday, October 22, 2012

Cheek to Cheek

This is the last song we'll hear
Before leaving

A little dance around the room
Smile at the ambassador
Smile at the businessmen
Smile at all the pretty ladies
In all the pretty dresses

Fantastic party
And all going until morning
Until sunrise, probably

And by then we'll be on the ocean
Already starving
Already half-dead
Already wondering why we said 'Yes'

Because we have been suppressed
And no amount of luxury
Can take away the remembrance
Of what it is to be hungry

These people are not our friends
And tomorrow, when we give all this up
No matter how mad it seems
It'll be us embracing our true calling

You know, when Matt died
I thought we'd be broken forever
But then James showed up at the door one day
Holding a book
Filled with love
And I knew right then that my life would have two paths
Him and yours, my husband's
And all I wanted was for those two paths to meet
To converge, and intersect
And become one

And they have

So what else could I possibly want?

He told us to give it all to him
So he could do good with it
So he could do more with it
Than we could ever hope to do
And he will, my darling
He will be unstoppable
And with what?

Just a little money?
From us?
Our little savings?

Aren't we lucky?

Aren't we lucky that we're able to do so much good
Just by signing a few documents
And then disappearing into the night
On a boat, into the sea

I never thought I'd know the glory of death
Especially not after Matt was killed in the war
And death only meant more darkness, more nothingness

Now I look forward to it
And to helping James
And knowing that there isn't going to be any mystery

No surprises

When I die you'll be right there with me
Holding my hand
Cheek to cheek

One more dance, my love

One more dance
Until it's time
To see our baby again

Look at all of them
Looking at us
Because of how happy we are

If they only knew, my darling
If they only knew how easy
It's going to be

When You Move Back from San Diego

When you move back from San Diego
Don't expect to just show up
At the old place on Covington
Thinking we're going to get sushi again
And all's well that ends well

I'll be here
But I won't be here here
Do you understand

I'm not going anywhere
I have roots
I've invested

What about you, huh?
Show me your roots

And you want to dance off for a year
Maybe more, maybe ten
Knowing full well
In the long run
San Diego is not where you're winding up

Why don't you just buy a clock
And throw it off a bridge
Not to see if time flies
But to see how much of it
You can toss away
Before it hits you
That people are mad

People are mad at you
And I don't know what to do about that

Because I'm supposed to stand here, right?
I'm supposed to stand here holding the torch
While you figure things out

What if I don't have time
For you
To figure
Things out?

What then?

You don't have a plan
You don't have a goal
You don't have a fucking idea
What is it you're even hoping for

You just know that moving from one place to another
Is a decent facsimile of progress

Yeah, well guess what?

You're not fooling anybody

Shit's bad here
Shit's bad in San Diego
Shit's probably bad on the Moon, babe

And some of us are running away
And some of us are sticking it out
And the ones who stick
Don't really have a lot of time or patience
For the ones who run
So you need to decide
Who it is
You want to be

And decide fast

Because a train's leaving
And a train's leaving
You know what I mean?

Your life goes in two directions
And it goes fast
So pick where it is you want to be ten years from now
And go there

Get a move on

Because the one thing nobody's doing
Is waiting

Waiting or around, you know?

You know what I'm talking about?

I hope so
I hope you do

Pilgrim

He's gotta go somewhere
Where he can wear nice shirts
Where nobody makes fun
When he wants to look nice

He's got a suitcase
Full of old stories
And a broken-down yearbook
All the pages unsigned

They all said, 'Go, run away'
But he overstayed
To make his point

Now they don't make planes fast enough
To get him away
To get him far away

Guess he's just a pilgrim
Just another pilgrim
Trying to find a home

Feels like going sailing
Feels like he's misplaced
Feels like bright lights
Don't belong on him

Found a little one-room
Made a little home
Mom said call home when you get there
But he's waiting until
The shake shakes out of his voice

He has to keep reminding himself
This is what he wants
This is who he is
This is where he can be
A breathing member of society

And everyone else around him
Seems right at home

He's never felt so at peace
And yet so alone

Maybe it's a storm
That'll pass in time
Maybe he's just used to being kicked around

Maybe somebody
Forgot to tell him something
Before he took off

Did his dad whisper stay?
Did his mom want to say something
Before she decided to let him go?

Or is he just a pilgrim
Wandering through minefields
Will there ever be a day
He can put his suitcase down?

Does it get any easier?
To wake up in a box of light
Knowing that just last night
You started all over again

Maybe if there's love here
And he can find a square of it
He'll remember why
He bid good-bye
To what he knew

He's gotta keep on going
Either up and down
Or right or wrong
Until he finds
Where he belongs

He's just a pilgrim
What else can he do?

When We Go to Hear the Band

When we go to hear the band
I have to tell Kandy not to freak out
Because as soon as anybody talks to her
She, like, freaks out
And it's so embarrassing
So then I try and pretend I don't know her
But at the end of the night
She's usually getting in some guy's car
Who looks like the actors they use
For the reenactments of murder cases on A&E
So I pull her away
And say she's my sister
Or my lesbian, my own personal lesbian
Or whatever, whatever gets the guy to back off
One time I had to kick the guy in the tick tock
Because he was being all rape-y
And Kandy was crying
And I just wanted to go home
And watch reruns of SVU
And go to bed
So bang
Right in the moosehead
Turns out he was Kandy's uncle
And she called him to pick her up
But she couldn't tell me that
Because somebody slipped something into her drink
And all she would say after awhile was--
'Vote for Nixon'

When we go to hear the band
This guy who sort of likes me is usually there
And I think he's sort of cute
But, like, not when he's looking at me
But when he's not looking at me
I think he's way hot
And I'm like, 'Why aren't you looking at me?'
So then I try to get him to look at me
And as soon as he does, I'm like--'Ew, don't be rape-y'
And then he stops, and then I'm like--'Ew, why am I bitch?'
But that's what happens
When your mother is a school psychologist
At least if she were just a psychologist
I'd be fully messed up
Instead of just sort-of-messed-up in a school-ish way
Because she got her degree
From Eastern Indiana State
Which I'm pretty sure isn't even a real place
But I don't say that to her
Because if I do
She'll stop writing me prescriptions for adderall
And if that happens
I definitely won't pass any of my classes
And I'll have to go to the same fake college she went to

When we go hear the band
We have an amazing time
Until we get there
And then I'm over it

But at home, before
When Kandy's still sober
And I'm not irritated
And my sister's boyfriend is walking around shirtless for no reason
And he mumbles something
And I think it's 'I love you more than your sister'
All that's pretty fun

I mean, for a Tuesday anyway

It Happened After the Rain

Your mother and I met and fell in love with each other
At a Nelson concert, which is probably why our marriage collapsed

It happened during 'After the Rain'
The song, it was a song
You wouldn't know that
You weren't even alive at the time
And 'After the Rain' isn't exactly a lost classic

But it was this moment
This very specific moment
In the nineties

A decade which seemed sort of okay while we were in it
Until now, looking back, when it looks like the seventies
But without the fun outfits

Your Mom and I were at this concert
The band was called Nelson
And they were--

Oh my God, the more I think about it
The more ridiculous it seems

They were sort of like a hair band
Which was a thing back then
But they weren't really a band
More like a boy band
And they used to sell out arenas
Which just goes to show you
That a bad economy is not necessarily a bad thing
When people use their extra money
To go see a band called Nelson

I was with my friend Scotty
Yes, we were two guys
At a Nelson concert
We told ourselves they were awesome
But they were not awesome
They were not awesome at all

We also wanted to meet girls
And we did

I met your Mom
And Scotty met a girl in a Warrant t-shirt
Who dry-humped him in the backseat of my car
All the way back to Madison

Your Mom and I didn't do anything that stupid
We just made out during 'After the Rain'

It really seemed so innocent
And beautiful
And, like, personally historical
In scope and magnitude

What breaks my heart about the divorce
Isn't that it was a bad marriage
Or that things got ugly
Or the custody battle
Or any of that

What breaks my heart
Is that all those amazing moments
Just seem silly now

Like we were just totally deluded

Not just me and your mom
But everybody
That entire generation

Why didn't we know that Nelson was awful?
Why didn't we know that we looked so dumb?
Why didn't we know that kids at concerts
Shouldn't get married six months later
Just because they kissed once
During a song they liked
And it seemed poetic?

Why didn't we know any of that?

I don't know

Sometimes people are like songs

You look at them and say--

I can't believe how much I used to love this

And then, sort of quietly to yourself--

I wish I still did

I wish I still remember
How good that felt

Kentucky Kindness

It was around harvest time
When we found the body in the barn

I asked Pop about it
And he said 'Don't ask'
So I didn't

I had chores I had to do everyday
And most of them were done in the barn
But Pop told me to take the day off
Go cut school and hang out in town
So that's what I did

The police found me at the movie theater
And when they took me home
They asked me questions

Did I see this
And did I see that

And I said I mind my own business
And my Pop said 'That's right, he does'
But after my Pop left the room
To go give his final statement, or whatever, outside
I told the police about my brother
How he's bad into drugs
And how he steals
And how he stole my allowance one week
And then nobody saw him for days

I asked the police if that would help them
Knowing we had a junkie in the house
And they said--Yeah, that helps
What you said helps a lot

They looked upset
'Cause I was rattin' out my own brother
But why should Pop or me or Danny
Take the fall for something
We didn't do
When it was probably just my brother
With his temper being bad
And his bottle of Kentucky Kindness
Making him do
All sorts of bad things

When Pop came back in the house
He was all ghost-white
And said--'What'd you tell 'em that for?
Why'd you tell 'em about your brother?'

And I could smell the tears on his face
Like I smelled the Kentucky Kindness
On my brother's breath

And that's when I remembered
Him finding me in the barn
The day before
When I was doing my chores

Trying to get more allowance out of me
Same as last time

And his teeth were stuck together
And he had sweat coming down his face
And I was so disgusted with him
And angry
That when he grabbed my arms
I tore him off
And went running towards the loft

He grabbed at me and we both fell
But I reached for the pitchfork a foot away from me
And when I felt the cold metal in my hand
I just...

But I finished my chores

That way I wouldn't get in trouble

I don't like getting in trouble

When my Pop sent me into town
After I found the body
He told me not to come back
He told me to go to the bus station
But I forgot
And went to the movies instead
And the police found me

But I got nothing to hide
I didn't even remember about my brother
Coming to see me in the barn
Until I really thought about it

Sometimes I forget things

But that don't make me a bad person, does it?

Everybody forgets what they need to

At least...I think so anyway

Dan the Nervous Phone Sex Operator

What, uh, what, uh, what, uh, are you, uh, you know, uh, wearing?

Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh--yeah, that's uh, okay, well, wow, uh, thong, well, hey, uh, okay.

My uh, what I'm, uh, well, uh, see the thing is, uh, I'm, uh, fully clothed

Completely
Totally
Comprehensively
Clothed

I, uh, am actually, uh, wearing aaaaaa sweater
And another sweater
And, uh, another, uh, sweater

Also some socks
I've got socks on
Thermal
Thermal socks
They're, uh, they're, uh, they're, uh, pretty comfortable
And I would like to continue to keep them on
As I discuss sexual things with you
Because they, uh, make me feel, uh, relaxed

My what?

It's, uh, it's, uh, well, geez, ya gotta, uh, wow, well, it's mine
It is, uh, definitely mine
It is unique, in that way
And, uh, I, uh, yes
Yes, that is, yes

What would I--oh, uh, well, yes, uh--

I would like to, uh, talk, uh, with you
Get to, uh, know you, before we, uh, you know

Before I take off your, uh, you know, your, clothes
And, uh, begin, our, uh, making of the, uh, sex
That would be, uh, yes, well--

Yes, I know, I'm sorry

Listen, instead of, uh, talking about this
Wouldn't you rather I help you do something useful
Like fix a computer
Or unclog a sink?

No, no, no, no, that is not a euphemism
I don't even know how, uh--

You're doing what?

To yourself?

Well, geez
Then what do you need me for?

I, uh, I, uh, I, uh, I, uh, I am a little, uh, put off
By how, uh, aggressive you're being
About this situation
And I, uh, in no way want to offend you
As you did call my, uh, company
Looking for a, uh, a, well, a--what would you say--a good time
And I am, uh, AWARE that I am supposed to provide that
But, uh, honestly, I'd rather just hang up on you
And go make myself a sandwich

No, I would not say I'm a, uh, typical man
Do most typical men know how to rewire an entire--

Well, that was a bust

Onto to the, uh, next caller

Hello, this is Dan
Here to make all your sexual fantasies come true

Uh huh

Uh huh

Uh huh

I'm sorry
I have to hang up now

Sheesh

Why do I keep getting all the sickos?

Saturday, October 20, 2012

A Manhattan Mother

Kate says she's selling her house
Her and Mark want to move further from the city
They're getting country-fied all of a sudden

But anyway, she said if we wanted to move back
She'd sell the place to us for next to nothing
I mean, it's not like she needs the money or--

Jeff, don't give me that look

You know I love New York more than anybody
But I'm not getting any younger
And if we're going to start talking about kids
Then we need to start talking about moving
Because I am not going to raise children in Manhattan

I see those mothers walking down the street
Cutting off circulation in their kids' arms
Because they're holding onto them so tight

I don't want that

I want to give my kids a yard
And fresh air
And if my mother can't see them twice a day
She's going to kill me

Look, this life we have
It's wonderful
But it's a life for twenty-somethings

I'm tired, Jeff
I'm tired now
Imagine what I'll be like with kids

And if I'm not staying out until 4am anymore
Then why do I need to live somewhere
Just because there are things to do
At 4am?

I mean, can you imagine dying of old age in this city?

Do you see what the elderly look like here?

You don't age
You shrivel
You shrink into nothing
I don't want to be one of those people

I want to be my mom and dad
I want to be in my seventies
And still be golfing and dancing
And not have a permanent scowl on my face

It's different for you
You grew up here
I didn't
I wouldn't know how to raise a family here

So I'm not saying we have to go back to where I'm from
But we do need to think about what we want
Because if we're staying here
That means it's you and me
And that's it

No kids
No house
No having it all

We live it up until we drop dead
Like the fabulous metropolitan people we are

So how does that sound to you?

You can't have everything, Jeff

It's not that I'm backing you into a corner
I'm just telling you--

It's one thing or another

That's not my ultimatum, Jeff
That's just life

We Have to Say It's Good

When they hired me
I had to take this test
To show that I had a background--

Well, they knew I had a background
I mean, I have a degree in this
But what I mean is, I basically had to take a proficiency test
To show them that I know what I'm talking about
When I talk about art

So, I took the test
I passed--that's not an 'everywhere' kind of thing either
But this is a reputable gallery
So yeah, you have to take a test to get in
I was okay with that

But then I start working here
And our first show was by this artist
Up-and-coming
And I wasn't all that thrilled with their work
But they were friends with the owner
So I didn't say anything about it
At least, not in a loud manner or anything
But I didn't gush over the work either

Well, the owner picked up on it
And told me--I mean, really, basically told me
That if I didn't like her friend's work
It would make her 'question my taste'

So I lied--to people
To my friends even

I said I thought the work was good
When I really didn't
Because I wanted to keep my job
And I thought--Well, it's one artist
It's not like by lying about what I think
About one artist is going to compromise
My professional integrity

But then there was another artist I didn't like
And then another--

I mean, I shouldn't say I didn't like these people
I was just critical of them
I thought that was my job
To help artists become better through feedback

But as soon as I stopped being a cheerleader for everybody
Suddenly I was negative and bitter
And it wasn't about me offering constructive criticism
It was just me not liking something
And didn't I see how unhelpful that was?

You know, it was very important to them
When they hired me
That I knew what I was talking about
But sometimes I wonder
If they just wanted to make sure
I could successfully sell bullshit
To anybody who asked me about what we do here

We have to say it's good
Even when it's not

And to me, that's counterproductive
For both us
And the artists

Nobody trusts us
The artists don't even trust us
Or at least, the ones with any sense don't
Because they know we're going to say we like their stuff
Even if we don't
And slowly but surely
Our reputation is eroding

So why do we keep doing this?

I guess it's a culture thing

There's no more criticism in art
Because the word critic has become a dirty word
Because nobody's actually good at it anymore
Being a critic, I mean

So now when you're critical
You're doing something wrong

You're being unhelpful
You're being cruel
You risk losing your job and I--

I'm starting to doubt myself

I'm starting to doubt my taste
I lie so much about what I like
That I don't feel like I really know what it is I like anyway

And that's a scary feeling, you know?

Not only to doubt your ability
But your sincerity

How you are at...telling the truth

You lose that and it's like--
Whatever you're saying is

Well, whatever it is
It's the opposite of art, isn't it?

Isn't it?

Friday, October 19, 2012

The Last Two on the Bus on a Friday Afternoon

The last two on the bus
On a Friday afternoon
Would never actually speak to each other

One was in seventh grade
One in eighth
And neither knew each other's name
Although one thought that the other
Looked like this kid from a movie
But only sort of
And not really

One kid sat all the way in the back
But only after the cool kids left
As that kid didn't want to start trouble

The other kid sat near the driver
And would sometimes converse with her
About what happened during the day
Since the mother of that kid
Never asked, and usually wasn't home
When that kid got home on a Friday afternoon

A note on the table would read 'Order pizza.  Don't stay up too late.  Love Mom'
And there'd be a twenty dollar bill underneath the note
There was a guy that kid's mom was seeing
And Friday and Saturday nights belonged to him
So that kid had the whole house
For two nights in a row
And later on in life
It would occur to that kid
To throw parties
Or have people over
Or just walk out of the house
And find a friend to drive downtown with
But in seventh grade
None of this was present in that kid's mind
So instead it was pizza and Facebook and falling asleep at 2am
With Mom still not home
And the television as a baby-sitter

The other kid, the eighth grader
Was a little more adventurous
With a much more stable home life

Two parents, two siblings
Reasonable Friday night outings
To a movie or the mall
Or to get ice cream
But all said and done by ten o'clock
And bed by eleven even on weekends
So as not to disrupt any biological sleep patterns
The other kid may have

But once everyone was asleep
The other kid would look out a bedroom window
That could just about offer a view of the tops of the downtown buildings
Their pink and purple lights

And that other kid would dream about going somewhere
Anywhere--anywhere where eleven o'clock wasn't the end of the world
And the night--and there was still more living to be done

Even though both kids knew
Exactly what their night was going to look like
As they sat on the bus
And four o'clock started to shake its waking head
They still felt that sense of excitement
That should really only be reserved for people
Who can actually take proper advantage of a weekend

The feeling that something was beginning
And that fun and hijinks were right around the corner

So they'd leap off the bus
First one
Then the other
Still, never really looking at each other

And then they'd think--

Now what?

Even knowing what was next
They'd take a minute to pretend they didn't
And just let Friday
Promise them a little bit more

That Old Bay Moon Don't Know You

Don't bother standing on the docks, Cliff
I'm telling you--that old bay moon don't know you
Not anymore

You're an old man now
You think she wants to see you
All your wrinkles
All your bad news
Give it a rest, old man
Go home and die
Like a civilized fellow

You think the moon cares
That you came out here when you were a kid?

That you'd sail with your wife
When she was still your girlfriend
And pretend like you were going to fall off the boat
Into the bay
And she'd scream until you stopped
Then one day you really did fall in
And almost lost the ring in your pocket
That you were going to give to her
If she agreed to marry you

Don't make the moon try to remember all that
It was a million years ago

And you're only going to depress her
And a depressed moon
Can cause all kinds of problems

So go home, old man

Don't throw your past in the bay
To see if it floats

Memories sink
Regrets sink even faster

You're just another crazy old sad sap
Looking at his reflection in the water
Wondering when he started to droop

Do you forgive me, old moon?
Old friend?

For getting old
When I promised I wouldn't

When I used to come here late at night
And jump in you

First with the guys
Then with my wife
Then my kids
Each time losing a step
Each time swearing that the water was too cold to swim in

I stopped coming by
Because beauty on a mournful soul
Is like a lit match
In a gasoline tank

It just brings up too much
Too much comes rising up
To the surface

That's the trouble, you know

That's the trouble
With everything

The stuff you never want to see again

Keeps coming right up from the bottom
To make sure you know
It's there

Life in Gotham City

Well, we had to cancel the birthday party
Because of Mr. Freeze

He blew up a bank downtown
And that means Clive's security company
Went to a Code Blue
Which isn't really anything all that uncommon

I kept saying, 'Clive, can't someone else handle the Code Blue
Just this once?

We got that new boy band to perform
But no, no, no
Code Blue means Big Boss has to be there
And so no Clive
And so no party
Because I can't handle all those teenagers myself
Not without heavy drugs
And my pharmacologist is trapped in Metropolis
Because the entire city
Has some sort of force field around it
So no refills for me

You know, I have to tell you Katrina
I'm really considering moving

I love Gotham as much as the next girl
But could we go a few weeks
Without a supervillain incident?

I'm scared to buy theater tickets
For fear we're all going to be quarantined to our homes again
Like when the Joker set off that laughing gas downtown

Coincidentally, that was the first and last time
I ever saw my mother-in-law smile

You know, it was fun living here
When Clive and I were younger
And we played life as it came
So that bank robberies and street shootings
Only added to the romance
But now it's just all one big inconvenience

And to be honest
I'm starting to get concerned
That Clive will only make love to me
When I'm dressed like the Riddler

I mean, Catwoman I can understand
Poison Ivy sure
But the Riddler?

Well, Clive always did love a good jigsaw puzzle

You know, I go to see my sister in L.A.
Where they don't have superheros
And everybody there has relocated
From places like this

A woman there told she moved after she woke up one day
And Batman had just thrown someone on her car
Destroying the windshield

And wouldn't you know that her insurance wouldn't cover it?

So now she has a shattered windshield
And all anybody would say to her was--

'Well, the guy was carrying an explosive device
That could have wiped out the city!'

That's all well and good
But what about her windshield?

Nobody cares about people anymore
The common people, I mean
People and their windshields
That's why I think it's time to move
Because I don't want to live in a place
Where as long as we're not all blown up by a lunatic
Then we're supposed to just go about our lives
And be happy paying for broken things
Like there's some giant windshield tree in the middle of the city
That just sprouts money

Or something

I'm mixing metaphors
It must be the Bloody Mary's

I'm sorry, Katrina
But Gotham City just isn't enough for me anymore

I mean, the adrenaline is wonderful
Don't get me wrong

Fearing for your life
After you've just popped a few Xanax
Is absolutely exhilarating

Letting that mix of relaxation
And sheer terror
Mingle in your mind
Like terriers at a dog park

But what does it mean that I'm getting used to all this?

Last week, I walked into the Penguin
Right into him
Right on Brewster Street

And he tried to kidnap me
And I said--
"You know what?  Just do it
Go ahead"

I mean, I wasn't doing anything that weekend anyway
And I would have LOVED an excuse
To blow off Cheryl's wedding

But he seemed sort of disappointed
At my willingness
So he just backed away
And went down some sewer hole

God, even the mutants don't want to harass me
No wonder Clive hasn't touched me in--

Oh boy, we'd better switch restaurants
I think the man coming down the street in the tank
Has our table in his sights

Another brunch
Down the drain

Vivica A. Fox Did My Taxes and Stole My Husband

I'm just saying this to warn you
Because I know what you're thinking

'Oh gosh, how nice of Vivica A. Fox
To offer to do my taxes for me.
I mean, so what if she's not a licensed accountant
And so what if she's making eyes at my husband?
She's Vivica A. Fox!
She was in Independence Day!
What harm could there be in letting her into my life
To control my finances?'

I thought the same thing

So I said, foolishly, 'C'mon over, Viv!'
And she came over
And proceeded to do my taxes
With such disregard
For accuracy
Or even logic
That I was nearly sent to prison
For trying to defraud the government

Now, that could all be one big honest mistake
I mean, it's perfectly reasonable to think
That even someone with a passion for taxes
Who has absolutely no experience doing them
Could screw up someone's forms enough
To get them tried by the federal government
And if I'm being honest, isn't it partly my fault
For allowing Vivica to do them in the first place?

I'll admit, it was sort of so I could brag to my sister
She's always going on and on
About how Luke Perry was her divorce lawyer
And how wonderful it went
Even though Luke Perry isn't an actual lawyer
So I thought, Well, fine--Luke Perry may be a good divorce lawyer
But he's no Vivica A. Fox!

But then, to find out that when I was being held in custody
By the government, who by the way, are not as nice as you would think they'd be required to be
--Vivica A. Fox took my husband to the Bahamas!

So of course, I'm upset
And I call Vivica
But at that point
She's not answering my calls

So I call my husband
And a few hours later he gets back to me

At this point I've been let out on bail
So I'm soaking in my tub
And the phone rings
And it's Connor
And I say 'Connor, what were you doing in the Bahamas with Vivica?'
And he says 'Well, she wanted to have an affair, but to be honest, I really didn't like her in Independence Day.'
And that's when I realized
That the entire thing had been a charade
So Vivica A. Fox could steal my husband

So I said, 'Connor, I'm so glad she didn't convince you to have an affair.'
And he said, 'Well, I didn't say that.  I just said I wasn't a fan of her acting.  But then she gave me a million dollars and now we're getting married just as soon as I divorce you.'

Now, of course, I was stunned
I mean, where the hell did Vivica A. Fox come up with a million dollars?

That woman hasn't done a decent movie in ages
She can't have that kind of cash
Just lying around whatever dump she's living in

So I say, 'Connor, are you SURE she has a million dollars?'
And he said, 'Well, she cut me a check'
And I said, 'Connor, that check is going to bounce.  Vivica A. Fox is TERRIBLE with money.  She did our taxes and she got everything wrong.'

You know the box where you're supposed to put your Social Security Number?
She wrote down Bill Pullman's phone number
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
Nobody wants to talk to Bill Pullman

So Connor goes and tries to cash the check
And, of course, it bounces
So he comes running home to me
And I tell him 'No more Vivica A. Fox!'
Except for Kill Bill: Volume One
Where she's brutally murdered

God what I wouldn't give to be Uma Thurman
In that movie
And that, coincidentally, is the ONLY time anybody has ever
Wanted to be Uma Thurman 

Well, the point is
The whole thing is a cautionary tale
About letting former celebrities into your life

You can't just say
'Sure, Linda Cardellini, borrow my lawn mower!'
Because it'll end badly

Trust me
You'll regret it

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Lake Michigan

Let's just remember that I moved here for you
For you, okay?
Keep that in mind

I've been playing house-fucking-husband for three years
So you could work at the firm of your dreams
And have a grand fucking time
Wining and dining
The only three rich people
In all of Detroit
So let's not get all high-and-mighty
About sacrifice
Now that I want to go back to Seattle

Which part of our marriage vows
Mentioned indentured servitude?

Which part said 'eternal misery for the husband?'

How could you make me stay here
This whole time
Knowing that the only thing
Keeping me from losing my mind
Was the promise
That after three years
Your contract would be up
You'd find work in Washington
And I could live my life for a little while?

You know what's really sick about all this?

I was actually looking forward to making you suffer
The way I've been suffering

I was going to take
Some kind of perverse joy in it

I mean, this can't be the way a healthy marriage works, can it?

Otherwise wouldn't one of us care
When the other one is unhappy?

Instead we just say--

Well, we'll spend a week at Lake Michigan
In a nice little house
And stretch for things to say to each other
Finally giving up
And reading a thousand books instead

I have read A Tale of Two Cities twice in three days
That means we're looking at a divorce

Because when reading Dickens
Is preferable
Over talking to your spouse
You're fucked, okay?

We
Are
Fucked

. . . . .

You're not going to fix this
With a trip to a lake
And a cooler full of cold cuts
And some board games
And this renewed sense of flirting
Sexy lingerie
That I know you hate wearing

You're not a wife
I'm not a husband
We're not a couple

We're two selfish people
Who were just worried
About dying alone

That's not love

I mean, it's a nice lake
It's a nice house
And your tits still look great, babe
But we're done
I mean, we're fucking done

. . . . .

We came here the first week
We moved to Michigan
And I don't remember anything but you

I don't remember books
Or board games
Or even us talking

I just remember you by the lake
At sunset
Wrapped up in a blanket
Not wanting to let go of my hands

Saying 'Three years--three years'll go by like that.'

Back then I didn't even care
Because they were going to be three years with you

But I had dreams
And those dreams were going to exist
Regardless of you

That must have been the problem

Maybe you should have been my dream
Or I should have been yours or...

Fuck

I never thought back then
About pulling my hand away
And leaving you where you were

It never even crossed my mind

Three years

It only takes three years
To wind up back at Lake Michigan

Feeling like you never should have left
Like you should have just stayed
Right where you were

Because you're so fragile
And what you want, your dreams
They're so fragile that
Taking even one step

Would just shatter it all

The Producer's Wife

I don't know why I didn't think
That he would assume I'm stupid

He thinks everybody's stupid
Everybody in America
Everybody who sees his movies

He has zero respect
For human intelligence

This is a man who produced
The Scar Tissue movies
All eight of them
And none of them
Not even the first one
Made any sense

But people went to see them
They went in droves
Any one of them made more money
Then that beautiful movie he produced
About the deaf cellist
The movie that won the Oscar

So he started thinking people were stupid
That they have no common sense
That they don't pay attention

He started becoming careless
Not reviewing the drafts
Of the screenplays
Not checking consistency
Not bothering to keep track
Of which characters died
In which movie

And still nobody cared
People kept handing over money
People kept screaming at things
That didn't line up

No wonder he was so blatant about the affair

At least it wasn't with one of his actresses
I can forgive an affair with a middle-class waitress
Who has two kids and no husband
I can feel bad for that woman
I can understand how sleeping with a millionaire
Might be too much to turn down
Even if you do have a strong sense of morality

But an affair with an actress
Would be more than I could overlook

At first I was just mad
That he thought I wouldn't notice
All the signs
All the obvious signs

Then I realized
He thought I was just another moviegoer
Just another person
Who didn't bother
To follow the plot
From one movie to the next

And it never occurred to him

That maybe they just wanted to scream

Those people who paid to see his movies
Maybe they didn't care about why they were screaming
They just wanted the smallest sliver of an excuse to do it
They just needed a release

And a release doesn't need to make sense or be intelligent

If anything, it helps if it's not

I wasn't unaware that my husband's actions
Weren't making sense
And I figured out very quickly
What was going on
And I just...didn't care

My husband is sort of like his movies
Predictable and comfortable

I knew that when I married him

So I let him keep screwing his waitress
And he kept thinking he was fooling me

Sometimes I want to tell him
Just to see his mouth drop

I want to say--

'You're not fooling anyone, you know'

But then I don't
Because it's not over yet
This little marriage
That we have going on

And he keeps making money
Money that will be up for grabs
When we divorce
If we divorce

So why show my cards now?

What can I say?

I never like
To spoil a good ending

Closing, 3:11am

She starts bringing up the kids
And I'm like, Tonya, don't do that
Don't bring up the kids
When the kids are in private school
Because I'm busting my ass
Keeping this bar open

She thinks I'm playing around
Drinking and screwing girls
While she's doing dishes
And helping with homework every night

I tell her she should come down some night
See just how many girls I take in the back room

You know, when I was with to Monica
She worked the bar with me
And before I knew it
We were at each other's throats

So when I met Tonya
I said--Nope, you're staying out of the bar
Stay home, relax, watch your kids
Enjoy yourself

And she's coming up with all these reasons
These things in her head
That tell her why I'm here every night
Until after three thirty

And I tell her it's a business
It's all about running a business
And that's true

But the other truth is
I just don't feel like dealing with anything
In the daytime

I see the sun coming up
And suddenly I'm tired
I'm exhausted
I just want to close my eyes
And sleep until the sun's down again

Monica used to ask me if I was a vampire
And I'd joke with her and say--Yeah, I'm Dracula
But the truth is...
I really felt like that
Like I was dead
And the sun was just a reminder
A reminder that I'm not one of the living

I don't understand the daytime
The 9 to 5-ers
The people who go for morning jogs
It's just not my speed

So I have a bar
A life I can live
At night

But my kids need a dad full-time
My wife wants to see me sometime before six pm
Everyone needs me to be someone else

So I pour myself a drink
And I think about what I want to do

Because I have a life
And something inside me
That don't gel, you know?

So what do I do?

I don't know

I'm supposed to be the one with the advice
The one behind the bar

And the sun keeps coming up, you know?

It just keeps coming up

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Nice Hotels

I never really got over
How much I like staying
In nice hotels

Childhood's all kind of a blur
But I distinctly remember
Always spending the night
In a nice hotel
Whenever we'd move
To a new town

It was sort of like the present we got
For uprooting ourselves
Without a lot of fuss

What nobody realized, my parents I mean
When I say 'nobody' I mean them
What they didn't realize was that
We just saw how pointless it was
Me and my brothers
We just didn't see the point in fighting after awhile

Nowadays when people get to know me
They say I'm apathetic

That's just my way of not fighting
I just don't fight anything anymore
It's just not...in me, I guess
It's been drained out
Like blood from a body

But I do still like a nice hotel

There's one like this one in Chicago
And if you go there
And you sit at the bar
And just sort of hang around
Looking friendly
Eventually somebody will come up to you
And start a conversation
Maybe give you their number
And by that I mean their room number
And you wait ten minutes
Because people in hotels are suspicious of everything
Of people watching
Even though nobody gives a shit
But still, you wait, out of respect
To calm them down
You go to the store in the lobby
Buy some gum, maybe a magazine for later
And then you go up to see them
But before you start, you say--

'Only thing is--I have to spend the night'

And by that point, you're there
You're cute
They're all riled up
So they say 'Sure'
And you're good to go

You get a nice place to stay
And you're safe
You're set

Until the next day at least
Until you have to move again

But you can't think about that

You can only think about that night
And what you have to do
To earn it

To earn those sheets
And those pillows
And that fresh smell

You gotta earn every night, you know?

Every single night

Magnificence Is the Direct Product of Time

You stick around long enough
And magical things happen

You stick around for three hundred years
And you become a mountain

I don't mean that poetically either
I really mean it

If you live for three hundred years
Your bones turn to rocks
Your skin expands
You reach into the ground
And take root
Just not like a tree
Like something more solid

Trees have life
After three hundred years
You no longer have life
You just have size
And size in and of itself
Isn't always...satisfactory

My wife came to visit me the other day
She sat down in front of me
And asked me if I ever loved anybody else

We were married for thirty-eight years
I was on this planet for two hundred and sixty-two years before I met her
She sat there and asked me
If I had ever loved anybody else
And I didn't say anything
Because I couldn't

But a wind whistled off my north side
And when it rushed to her ears
It sounded like the word 'No'

Because I never did
I never loved anybody else

When I started to age
After centuries of staying the same
I realized that it was love
It was love that was making me grow
And I thought--

Well, this is wonderful
But also terrible
Because eternity was so promising
And all I did with it
Was take a handful of time and love
And hand it over
To someone else

But when I saw my wife
Sitting in front of me
Gazing at a mountain
Talking to what she thought
Was the ghost of me
Following her around
When really it was much more physical than that
I suddenly didn't feel like my transformation
Was a waste of a never-ending life

Instead, I felt like I'd done the right thing
And in doing so
I'd become something grander
Than what I was

Something worthy of awe
And appreciation

I was a mountain
Time had made me magnificent
But only time filled with love

I sat there
My wife sat there
Time passed
And when I looked up
After what felt like seconds
There was a river
Where my wife runs

A river going into and past
This quiet mountain

And that was how I knew
We'd have all the time
In the world

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Because You're Friends With Him

Are you somewhat unclear on why we've allowed you
To infiltrate our little group?

Do you know nothing about social relationships
And the in's and out's of why people choose
To have other people around them?

Maybe I need to educate you on this
You see, we only let you hang around us
Because you're friends with him

Because he's attractive
And aloof
And notoriously hard to pin down

So if we want him to attend a party
Or show up to a dinner
Or just stop by for a drink somewhere
That means you have to be there as well

And the minute we invite you somewhere
And he doesn't show up
You will have demonstrated that you are of no use
And quite frankly, I am dying for that day to arrive

Now don't act all shocked and offended
Like you didn't know this was the arrangement

You're the one who always brings him up
Dangling him in front of everybody
Like a worm on a hook

You make it very clear
That the two of you are a package deal
And because he's gorgeous and stupid
He doesn't seem to have a problem with it
But you must know
There will come a day
Where he'll either move
Or get a boyfriend
Or decide to cloister himself
And then what's your plan?

Find another attractive guy to leech onto?
Maybe rent one
I mean, you're pretty much doing that now
Or do you think we're all unaware
That this little friendship of yours
Was started and is now maintained
Solely because you buy him drinks
And concert tickets
And elaborate gifts for no reason?

He may be stupid but he's not that stupid
And it seems like he won't even leave the house
Unless there's something in it for him

The truth is, none of us like him all that much either
We're just waiting to see which one of us can sleep with him first
So we can claim the points, and then end this ridiculous charade

Fake friends
Fake friendships
It's all so tiring

It must be even worse for you
You certainly look tired

I guess it's difficult
Waiting for the other shoe to drop
Knowing when it falls
It's going to fall
Right on you

Hell, if I were you
I'd spend all my time
Looking up

When We Were Going to Take the City

Eight Octobers ago, there we were
Sitting on uncomfortable plastic chairs
Toasting with plastic cups
Wearing too much denim
Two bedrooms full of unpacked boxes
A kitchen with a broken fridge
A bathroom with a broken sink
Windows that got stuck halfway open
So that our first winter in the city
Involved us walking around our apartment
Dressed like we were going skiing in Montana

When we were going to take the city
We talked excitedly about things
We got so excited so easily
Sales rack finds got us excited
Good milkshakes got us excited
The fridge being resurrected
By that guy down the hall
Got us excited

When was the last time you felt excited like that?

Eight Octobers ago
We didn't casually wonder
What we would wear for Halloween
We attacked the challenge
And came up with Plan B's
In case we showed up at a party
And somebody else had the same idea

We took trips outside the city
To go apple picking
And came back to make pies
Only to discover that baking a pie
Is not something a person intrinsically knows how to do
So we ate devil dogs instead
And we were really, really happy about that

When we were going to take the city
Money was something we didn't worry about not having
We had floating responsibilities in our heads
Rent, food, utilities
But once those tasks were met
We didn't care how much was left over

I just remember us laughing
I remember us laughing all the time
Looking across the room at each other
And just laughing because how ridiculous
How ridiculous were we?

When we were going to take the city
We weren't sure where we were going to take it
Probably back home with us
To our little suburb
Once we were done
Having our fun

But now we're still here
Eight Octobers later
In different apartments
Forgetting to return phone calls
Forgetting to laugh
Forgetting that you never need more than you need
And we still don't know how to bake a pie

When we were going to take the city
We didn't wonder about when it was going to happen
We just figured it would
And that when it did
Things would be ever better
Than they were at the time

We never thought that the city would take us
That it would take us and never give us back

To ourselves
Or each other

I guess that's how it works though
I guess anything that works
Has to work
Both ways

This Time It Better Work

Harry booked a sitcom yesterday
Something about a nursing home
They're using a lot of older actors
They're saying it's going to be the next Golden Girls
Harry's a male nurse in it
And it's, you know, a lot of--
The old ladies cracking jokes
About how handsome he is
That kinda thing
Nothing they really needed a genius actor for

You know, you can't take stuff like that personally
It's all a crapshoot
Harry was in the right place at the right time
It could have been you
If you hadn't had the doctor's appointment

You had to go
You had walking pneumonia
It was just a fluke thing
You'll get the next one

I'm not trying to talk you out of going
I'm trying to get you to hang onto this dream you've had your whole life
For a little while longer
Instead of just throwing it all out
Like...

Like I haven't been doing it with you

I know I can teach anywhere
But it's still a lot
All this moving around
Starting over

It's just a lot

And I don't see why things are going to be better in Atlanta
Your mother's already asked me three times
How long we plan on staying with her
And your brother hasn't even called us back

Plus we don't have a car
And I liked your old car
And that watch your father gave you
If you gave me a month
I could have gone back to the restaurant
And made enough money
To get us the train tickets
You didn't have to go pawning stuff off
The guy looked at us
Like we were a couple of drug addicts

Same way they did in Chicago
Same way they did in New York
And now...

You know, I'm just going to say this
Because I have to say this
But I feel like I really have to say this

This time it better work
The move, the clean slate
The starting over

It has to work this time
Because I'm sick of sitting on train platforms at ten to midnight
Trying to figure out
How I'm going to build myself up again
Somewhere I've never been before
Somewhere without friends
With no connections

You're good at that
I'm not
It's probably because you go out of your way
To make sure you don't relate to anybody
Until you're sure you're sticking around
And the thing is
You're never sure
I'm never sure

I'm not even sure of you

I'm not even sure that one day you won't just take off without me

I'm just not sure

So this is it

As far as moves go
You better be planning on making it work in Georgia
Because, honestly, if it doesn't
I'm getting on my own train
And you're not coming with me

Do you understand what I'm saying?

Good

Well...

I guess it's all aboard

Georgia...or nothing

Monday, October 15, 2012

Battleground

The birds flock down
Downwards
Towards the water
Then back up
When they feel the heat

The birds know something's up
Before the people swimming do
The subtle shift in temperature
Affects the wind under their wings
Before the water starts to feel
One way or another

The people in the water
Won't notice the boiling
Until the bottoms of their toes
Start shooting messages
Up, up out of the water
Saying 'Move, move'
Something right
Is now wrong

What was once a paradise
Is now a battleground
And the war isn't fought
With guns and tanks
But with sharp looks
Throat-clearing
Foot-tapping
A 'Hurry-up-let's-go' sort of thing

Nobody notices the first harsh word
Or the first sharp intake of breath
Or the way the water swirls around and around
When someone says 'Okay, we're done
Day's over.  Let's pack up and go.'

But nobody moves
Because it's too hot
It's already too hot to move

So then there's yelling
And splashing
And the birds are going higher
Because they can feel the warmth
Even a hundred feet above the surface of the water
So they fly and they fly
Until they can feel gravity suspend itself
And then they coast over the reddening
They see happening beneath them

Did you say this?
Did you say that?
What did you mean by this?
What did you mean by that?

By the time the beach is cleared
The toys are put away
The sandwiches quickly eaten
So as not to go to waste

It's already a hot zone
The boiling point has been reached

The beach is a battleground
And what the water can't carry away
Gets buried deep
Deep
Beneath the sand

The Ghost Goes Through the Wash

The thing about death is
Sometimes you go through the wash

And I don't mean that metaphorically
I mean you actually go through the wash

It's just like anything else
It's about relationships

But when you're dead
The meaning of that changes

How you relate
And what you relate to

I don't really relate to people anymore
I mean, I identify with them, sure
But relating to them?

That's...tricky

Instead I relate to toaster ovens
Blenders, crockpots
Bedspreads, sometimes
But mainly gadgets

Something about death
And minor technology
Just go hand-in-hand

And it's interesting
Spending two hours
Relating to a remote control
Or microwave

But every once in awhile
You find yourself drawn to a dishwasher
And then all of a sudden
All you taste is soap
And a fork is banging up against you
And you just want to be alive again
And able to feel something other than
Electricity and dirty water

You miss being heard

Nowadays I talk and there's cable television
Or a pot boiling
Or a can opening
Or, when I get really frustrated
A car backfiring, a furnace breaking down
Something not going
The way it should

That's how I speak now
And then I exhaust myself
And I have to relate to a couch
Or a bean bag chair

When I was alive
And I was frustrated
By my husband
Or whoever
I would wash dishes
With my hands, the normal way
And that would soothe me

The motion of it
The cleansing
The running water

So maybe that's why now
I see my daughter
In this loveless marriage
And I try to scream at her
To get out
To not waste time
To just start over
That it's not as scary as it seems
And I just wind up in the dishwasher

The sound of dishes
Drowning out my voice
Again

In a way, it makes me think
Of what people say hell is

The most fitting punishment

When I could have spoken I didn't
And now that I want to
I can't

I understand radios now
And laptops
And garage door openers

But I still don't understand the girl I've known
Since she was born
The girl who was a part of me
Who came from me

I guess there are some things
Even death can't change

For Adam, On His Birthday

I write things for people all the time
Monologues to perform
Monologues for auditions
Monologues for myself

But up until now
I haven't ever written anything
With someone's name
Right in the title

But if ever anybody deserved one
And much, much more
Than just a measly monologue
It would be Adam

Normally I write characters
Situations, stereotypes
Witty third-graders
Evil villains
Loud mothers
People I've never met
But who I feel I know
And in some cases, even care about

But never in my life
Have I met anybody
Who was so good
I couldn't even write them

That I couldn't even capture
In a monologue
In a play
With words
With all the words I can think of
I can't think of any
That can accurately describe Adam

Human jackpot
That's the closest I can get

Because I know how much he loves Disney
I'll say this:

Meeting Adam was like when the kids in Mary Poppins
Write down what they want in a nanny
And send it up the chimney
And bam!--perfect nanny

I thought of everything I could want in a guy
And he was delivered
Sassy talking umbrella and all

Everyone who knows him
Knows he's kind, loving, compassionate
I'm actually late to the party
When it comes to all that

If anything, I find myself wishing
I'd known him forever
Even though it feels like I have

What I find most astonishing
Is that I've actually found someone
Who not only puts up with me
But accepts me for exactly who I am

Adam, you make me the person
I've always wanted to be

You're the first person I've ever met
Who I'm really sure of

I'd say here's to another thirty-two years
But truthfully
I want a million
As long as they're all with you

I love you
And Happy Birthday

Her Sister's Makeup

Karen puts on her sister's makeup
But she's running out

Out of lipstick
Out of mascara
Out of powder

She could get more
Like the kind her sister used
But she'd have to ask her mom to drive her to the store
And her mother hasn't gotten out of bed in three days
So any and all trips are now out of necessity only

And with money being what it is
And 'what it is' meaning 'tight'
There wasn't a lot of room in the budget
For something like cosmetics
Or new clothes
Or nice things
Or family therapy

One day Karen's mother was cooking eggs at the stove
And Karen suggested therapy
Like the celebrities in magazines get

'We don't need therapy,' her Mom said
'We just need to accept the fact
That your sister's dead
She's dead and she's not coming back
And that's that.
No need to keep going on about it
Or share it with some headshrinker.'

But Amy wasn't dead
She had just left for Los Angeles
With some guy she met at the bar where she worked

She lied about her age to get that job
All the while just waiting for a man on a motorcycle
To offer her a lift somewhere
And when he did
She took him up on it

'I hate leaving you here with Mom,' she said
Packing in the middle of the night
Karen sitting on her bed crying
But trying not to make too much noise
So Amy wouldn't get in trouble

'The thing is,' said Amy
'One of us has to get out
So she can come back and get the other one
And since I'm older
It's my job to get out first.
Do you understand that?'

Karen wanted to understand
So that Amy would be proud of her
But her despair pulled her in like the tide
And it wouldn't let her go

Amy hugged her
And then hugged her good-bye

Then out she went
Out the window
Out to the street
And Karen's face was buried in a pillow--sobbing
When she heard the motorcycle pull up
Then pull away

Her mother had been ineffective up to that point
But with Amy gone
And her paycheck with it
Ineffective became negligent

Amy had packed up everything
But her make-up
And so Karen would put it on
And walk around the house
Trying to see things
Through Amy's eyes

But when it was time to wash the makeup off
And sit down in the kitchen
Eating ham sandwiches
While Mom stared down at the 'Help Wanted' ads
Not really seeing them
But hoping to suck one of them up
Onto her resume
Karen felt like she couldn't see anything

She couldn't see or know
That things had gotten
This bad

She knew their lives weren't exemplary
But they had each other

Were things always like this?
Sad?  Stressful?
Pitiable?

How had Karen never noticed it before?

Maybe that was something you learned in time
To see how things really are

And maybe once you did
That was how you knew
It was time
To go

Wrapping Up Bible Study

You know, I have to say
I'm not sure about switching our bible study
To Sunday evenings

We already have church in the morning
And church outreach in the afternoon
And now bible study at night?
It just seems like our 'day of rest' isn't all that restful anymore, am I right?

Hahaha okaaaaaaaaay then

Well, since everybody else just loves spending their nights
Analyzing the word of the Lord
I guess I'll just have to learn to adapt
I mean, I am your pastor after all
I must bend and sway
At the will of my flock

It would just be--and this is really nothing, just, uh...

Well, if we could finish by nine
That would be ideal
Because, uh, haha, well, I can't lie, so--
I mean, I could lie, but I'm, haha, not allowed to

There's a program that comes on at nine o'clock
That I like very much
Called Sensual Danger
It's really not as bad as it sounds
But it's highly addictive
I turned it on one night
When I was working on a sermon
About the dangers of television

So I started watching Sensual Danger
As the perfect example
Of the sex-drenched, violent, evil dreck
We see on television
And the next thing I knew
I was hooked

And it's not exactly a show you can afford to miss

Oh sure, I could DVR it
But then I go home on Facebook
And some jerk has posted what happened
And it comes up on my newsfeed
And ruins everything for me
So I just prefer to be there, at home
When it first airs

So if it'll expedite the process
I can just tell you all the ending
To the loaves and the fishes

There were plenty
God is good
Jesus makes food multiply like Gremlins
And everybody was happy

Now let's say an amen
And start heading home
Because tonight Monica is going to tell Sam
That Cody is really his son
And if I miss that
There will be hell to pay

Hahaha no, but really
There might be

The Pictures I Took in High School

They're pressuring me to run
And I'm flattered, I really am
And I think it's something I could do
I have ideas, I'm good at implementing ideas
I've sort of dabbled in public service over the years
But when they suggested that I actually run
And that it would be a real campaign
And that I might--MIGHT--have a chance at winning
Well...that's when I got nervous
Because...of...

I took these pictures in high school
A friend and I were--

Well, I was pretty wild back then
And we were over her house one night
And we got bored
And her boyfriend was over
And he was sort of into photography
So he said we should pose for him

...Like, just, you know, pose--for him

And I was fifteen at the time
And I had, you know, a little crush on him
Even though he was my friend's boyfriend
So I just sort of posed, like, around her house
I have no idea where her parents were
Her parents were never around
Not like mine
Mine might as well have been chained to the kitchen table

Anyway, we were posing
The two of us--her and me
And, uh, of course, things...
Sort of got out of hand
I think she was older
I think she was older than me
Just a year or so
But her boyfriend must have been at least eight or nineteen
So the whole thing was...

But I'm not saying it traumatized me or anything
Because the truth is I didn't even think about it
Until recently when, you know, they asked me
If I have anything...uh, awkward--in my past

And I thought of those pictures
And how I didn't even talk to that girl or her boyfriend after high school
And I have no idea where they are
Or what happened to the photos

Truthfully, I don't even know if they were ever developed

But this was before the age of digital cameras
So when someone took a photo of you
It wasn't just going to be deleted later on
There was film, there was a hard...something

So for all I know
There could be these incriminating...

It's just something I worry about

And it makes me angry
That I'm stopping myself
From doing something
I really want to do
Because of something I did
When I was fifteen!

I mean, that's ridiculous
But at the same time...

I have daughters now
A thirteen-year-old
And a ten-year-old
And I don't want them...

Being exposed to certain things

I mean, I know they're just pictures
And if it were just me
If it was just about my pride
Then I wouldn't care
But--

I'm a mother
I have obligations
To people
Other than myself

So do I run and risk some jerk somewhere
Getting a hold of those pictures
And putting them out there
For everyone to see?

I can't
I just...

I just feel like I can't

Isn't that too bad?

I mean, really, it's...

It's really too bad

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Rose Is Dead

Rose is dead and she left all her money to Nick
Because he stopped by the house a few times
When she was sick
Can you stand it?
I can't stand it

She's my aunt my whole life
And I got nothin'
Nothin' from that woman
Like I was nobody
Like I didn't wash her feet
Or put her to bed
Or let her stay in my house rent-free
For two months
While Cheryl was renovating hers

She sat on my couch for two months
Eating my food
Watching my tv
Never gave me a dime
Not that I would have taken it
She was my aunt
I loved her
But still
All that money
All to a kid
A kid who came to see her a few times

I mean, he's my nephew
And I love him dearly
But don't tell me
He came to visit her
Out of the goodness of his heart

Twenty-year-old boys
Who like nice things
Don't go sneaking around an old lady with money
Unless they want something
And now he's got it

Forty thousand dollars
Can you imagine?

And me, Cheryl, and Nick's father
All get nothing

You ask me, she went insane there at the end
Probably thought Nick was his father
Probably thought that whore girlfriend of his
Was Cheryl
I don't know who she could have mistaken for me
Maybe the picture of Suffering Mary hanging on the wall

All I know is what's right is right
And this ain't right

Nick should get forty thousand dollars
When I need a new roof
And Cheryl's kids don't have cars?

Mike says Nick offered to pay for the funeral
I said, 'He can pay for ten funerals.  What am I supposed to say?  Thank you?'

Please
Don't even
I'm sick about this

She was my aunt
My favorite aunt
Last person living from my childhood
And now she's gone
And what do I get?

What do I get out of her dying?

It makes me sick, you know that?

The whole thing
Just makes me sick