Otis

The kid in the corner is from Saint Marks
The blue shirt, the plaid pants
The drink in his hand

You can go talk to him
If you want

But he's going to be gone by Monday

His Mom's sick
He's only here
To say his good-byes

He'll be on a plane back
To the life he prefers
As soon as the last potato chip
Is taken from the happy red plastic
Funeral bowls
His sister will put on the table

Go ahead though
Give it a shot
Try to say hi
And throw some personality at him
See what sticks

He might be interested long enough
To give you a kiss
Or you might end up seeing dotted lines
And air
He's so quick
He moves like the Flash

But then again,
We're all superheroes now
We just share the same powers

He's from Saint Marks
The party's in Crenshaw
And Otis is from New York

Funny to think
Where you'll be
In six hours

White deep vee
Baggy jeans
Converse sneaks
Dancing on sticky floors
In a club you didn't know about
That won't be there tomorrow

The police determine
When the party ends
And the diners wait
Like hungry sharks
For kids on drugs
To come get their scrambled eggs

Wasn't I just at my mother's funeral?

Whoa, whoa

Hold up, Otis

We're not doing first person

First person narrative
Is a mirror
You can't handle
Looking into

Let's keep some distance
From this non-linear
Line of thought

Anyway, six hours ago
You were on a bus
Twelve hours ago
You were at the funeral
A day ago
You were at the bar
You went to in college
Hoping that by some miracle
It's now busy there on Monday nights
Even though it never was
Never will be
Isn't then
But
Yes, maybe a miracle
There was the boy
Plaid pants, blue shirt
Sending out waves of 'Yes, sir, I am'
But also depicting 'You might be wrong'
So you waver on whether
To ask him--

Ask him what?

For a number you're never going to call?
For a dance in an empty bar?
For one night where a mistake
Feels like a warm blanket
And does he mind sneaking in through a window
Or does he have his own place
And can you go there
And do you want to hear about his sick Mom and--

Wait

Wait

Are you confused?

I'm confused Otis who are you--?

Oh

He's not there

He's you

The bar

It's empty

Really empty

No cute boy in the corner

And you're the one with drink
In your hand

Who else would wear plaid pants
To a dive bar?

How sick is it that you've turned yourself
Into your dream boy?

I mean what kind of--

...You know what?

Never mind

This shouldn't take much longer

This isn't an epic poem, Otis

It's just a morality play
About who you are
And where you're from
And who you'd like to be
And how there's no place on this earth
That can supply you
With an identity

Fifteen years ago
You got on a bus
And it wasn't to New York, was it?

Narrators know things, Otis
You can fool everybody but a Narrator

I have
Information
At my
Disposal

What was in that drink at the bar?
Geez, no wonder you're looking in a mirror
And seeing double

Your expectations are so low
Even you're looking good
To you

The bus took you to where--
Should I tell them?

The reader
The listener
The audience
The voyeur
The spy

I'll leave it alone
Nobody likes a prequel anyway

Let's stick to the event at hand

Drunk in a bar
Then twenty-four hours later
Drunk in another bar
But this time the bar's full
And you're happy
Happy to be around people
Drinking in their good energy
Taking your deep vee off
Unbuttoning your pants
Ready to get naked
If that's what it takes
To be wholly immersed
In this atomic Wonderland
Of sweat, breath, and body

The eggs are salty
And that's the next sensation you remember
The salt of the eggs
And the salt on your lip
When you brought the glass
Of whatever it was you were drinking
At that dive bar
To your mouth

You envision going outside
Into the snow
And tunneling
All the way to the mall
Miles away
Where you'll have the run of the place
The food court
The arcade
The home decor store
Where you can sit at a nice kitchen table
The kind you see in country homes in movies
Because you've never actually been inside a country home

You'll drink hot chocolate
From the food court
And be lulled to sleep
By the silence of stainless steel pots
In the home decor store
At the giant wooden table
In an empty mall
In the dead of night
In a city you used to live in

Used to live in...

Used to live...

Used to...

You're on a bus

Wait, I thought we weren't doing this?

Okay, but just a second

You're on a bus

I'm on a bus

No, you're on a bus

I'm just looking at you
On a bus

Next to a boy
In plaid--

No, you're on a bus
With people
But no boy

And your phone is ringing
And it's your Mom
She's been calling
And calling
And calling

And you don't answer
You don't want to answer
But you don't turn the phone off either
Because you want to see
How long it will be
Until she stops calling

How many phone calls
Until a mother
Walks away from her son?

And whenever the phone stops ringing
That's when you'll get off

Pittsburgh

It stops ringing in Pittsburgh

You get off

That was a few years ago

What happened in Pittsburgh?

It doesn't matter

Nothing happened
And everything happened
And that is the story
Of just about every life
On this planet, Otis

Nothing is special about you
You are not special
I am not special
You are not me
And I am not you
And Otis is from New York

And there is no was no Otis
Before New York
Before now
Before dancing at a club
On Chipparoe Street
Next to a diner
That swims like a shark

Why do you keep checking your phone?
Nobody's calling now

...I'm sorry...

Was that a mean thing to say?

...Well...

You escaped by the skin
And not of your teeth either

You were the proverbial band-aid
Ripped off the memory
Of so many people

Family, friends, boys in bars
Who actually existed

One day you were here
And one day you were gone
And now you're back
And nobody even knows
Because you did not alert the media
And you did not ring the church bells
And kids these days
Don't read the obits
The way their parents do

Besides, how many of those boys
Would know what your last name is anyway?

So a woman's picture sits in a newspaper
Saying she's survived by a son
If you really want to call it surviving
And a page is turned
And a woman disappears
Just like everyone else
Just like you will one day

So get back on a bus

The Wonderland's waiting

You know what happens in twenty-four hours
You know where you'll be
And what you have
To look forward to
So do it

Go ahead

Go ahead, Otis

Don't veer from the story
I can only help you
As long as you stick to the narrative
As soon as you jump ship
You run the risk
Of ending up
In my recycling bin

My interest in you is based solely
On how much I can depend on you
To bore me

You got that, Otis?

Do you
Under
Stand?

You're on a bus
There's New York
There's behind you
There's Pittsburgh
There's no suitcase
There's no phone ringing
There's no plan
There's nothing

There
Is
Nothing

Nothing but what's happened
And what can

You're from Saint Marks, Otis

I remember you

Do you?

Do you?

Do you?