You're Gonna Be the One That Saves Me

Your bathing suit reminds me not to stare

And I appreciate your broken tone

We shake hands like we’re telling a joke

And I silently say your name to myself

I’m two miles down a one-mile well

Deeper than anybody thought I could go

I sent back the bucket with a note that said ‘I’m fine’

And floated on the top like a brand new penny

Then along comes this oasis

In my self-imposed desert

And briskly I’m reminded

That I never learned to swim

You’re not flow-y like the poems say

Or flowery, or sunny

Nothing about you says nature

Or earthy, or natural, or free

But you have to get close to get close

And that reminds me of me

You don’t inspire me to write

You inspire me to not write

Half the rockets in the sky

And you picked mine

To bring back down

I hear 90’s radio

And shut my eyes

Knowing I was stuck in ‘91

And here comes ‘96

I want to get up and dance

But I’m too drunk to move

Clicking my tongue

Tapping my feet

Cool windshield for a pillow

Rolling engine as a bed

You know I’m gonna be a project

But you love me anyway

Not right way, but you see it coming

Like a big wave at a little boat

You’re gonna tile me

And teach me

Root canal me

And reach me

They’re gonna write about us

But we won’t be writing

We’ll be too busy living

Giving ‘em something to write about

I’m going to drown

And dizzy

And burn out

And lose

And lose again

And give you something

To work with

You’re gonna say you’ll never leave

And I’m gonna change your mind

But you’ll stay anyway

Past your friends’ objections

Your parents’ ultimatums

And your own common sense

You get up on the hood with me

And we say…nothing

Frogs jump by but you don’t kiss ‘em

Boys drive by and honk their horn

You put your head next to mine

And whisper promises you’re not sure you can keep

And I peg you for what you are

There and then

My sword on your shoulder

The stone of your lips

You’re gonna be the one that saves me, I say

And you say—We’ll see

You won’t believe me

Until you’ve done it

Until I’m saved

And you’ve done the saving

I’m the thing you thought you’d never do

And you did a good job

I’ve had a lot of people love me

So that’s nothing new

But nothing compares

To being saved my you

Around the House

They feed me chicken on Fridays

And tell me I’m doing well

You’re doing well, they say

As if they have some insight into my wellness

That I’m not privy to

I wouldn’t be surprised

There isn’t much I am privy to these days

The pills say I’m happy

And so I’m happy

The pills say I’m level

And so I’m level

I’m stable

I’m solid

I eat solid food

I eat, that’s the point

Any food will do

Even the crap they feed me

Like the burnt chicken

And mushy peas

The maids bring me the pills

The chef brings me the food

The butler stands next to me

To make sure I don’t find myself

Attracted to the knives

They wheel me around my house

Like I’m a child in a carriage

This is the room you do this in

This is the room for sitting

This is the room for talking

This is the room where you visit with guests

Although there are never any guests

They think my memory is faulty

When actually, my memory is fine

But my will is being challenged

By my own lack of enthusiasm

The servants—maids, butlers, everyone

Have a hobby they enjoy

They like telling me

How rich I am

You’re lucky, they say

You’re lucky you’re so rich

And can afford to have people

Take care of you

But then they leave me

Believing I’m trapped with whatever’s

Locked behind my eyes

They close the curtains

They turn out the lights

They forget about me

Where there were candles

Now there are photos of candles

Where there were portraits

Now there are hooks and faded paint

Where there was a window

There’s a wall

Where there was a bedroom

There’s a washroom

Where there were flowers

There are empty cages

A phone rings

But no one answers

A clock chimes

But time goes back

Back to halls I used to dance through

Back to tables with friends around them

Back to twelve seconds ago

And back twelve years further than that

Aren’t I lucky that I’m rich, I think?

Only the rich can afford

To live off their memories

Someone comes to get me

And only my body is there

This time they’ve finally convinced me to vacate

This time they’re on their own

The Elephant and Chris

The elephant told herself

She wouldn’t do this again

She sits across from Chris

Looking down into her coffee

Trying to twiddle thumbs

She doesn’t have

Her trunk rests casually on the table

Next to her scone

Chris chews on some bacon

She imagines telling Chris

That this isn’t going to work

They’re just different people

Well, he’s a person anyway

And she’s got aspirations

That he doesn’t share

Chris describes his ideal sandwich

The elephant nods

And thinks about trampling him to death

Across the café, there’s a cheetah

Breaking up with a guy named Floyd

And for a brief moment

The cheetah and the elephant share a moment

A sort of—Yeah, same here, sister

Meanwhile, Chris sops up runny egg yolk with his toast

And the elephant wants to gag

What is wrong with you, she wants to ask

If you wanted a sponge, why not just ask for one?

Why take bread—which is already spongy

Harden it

Then try to make it into a sponge?

He was an illogical force of nature in her life

Like a thunderstorm

Or an unripe melon

The elephant clears her throat

And her coffee cup flies off the table

And halfway across the room

Sometimes she doesn’t know the strength

Of her own breath

Chris reaches over to touch her right ear

But she pulls away

And says ‘Don’t’

He grimaces

The man across from the cheetah

Starts to cry

The elephant thinks about getting up to leave

But where would she go?

Besides, the tables are too close together

She’d end up knocking something over

Or stepping on a croissant

Chris asks her if she likes her scone

‘What’s not to like,’ she asks

Trying to keep the wild fury from her voice

‘It’s a scone’

He senses that something is wrong

His nose twitches

Then flops out of his face

And onto the table

Right onto his pancakes

His ears jut out from either side of his head

And the fingers on both of his hands

Began to run together

Like flippers

Then swell like water balloons

His skin turns a mid-day grey

And his clothes fall off in threads

Like snake’s skin

Great, the elephant thinks,

Now there are two of us

The waiter stops by and asks

If they’d like a refill on their coffee

Two nods

The waiter nods

More coffee on the way

The elephant dashes her hopes

This breakfast will go on forever

The cheetah is now alone

The man across from her got up to use the restroom

And never came back

Chris has fallen asleep at the table

His trunk landed in her fruit cup

Great, thought the elephant

Just great

This Boring Heaven

You can’t trust a cloud

To tell you the truth

You can believe that it won’t lie to you

But that doesn’t mean it has to tell you everything

I ask to see you

They say you’re here

But you’re not here

‘Not in this exact spot?’

Heaven, the cloud says, is a very large place

Funny, because I always thought of Heaven

As being exclusive

And so, tiny

Miniscule, really

Since it seemed that so few of us

Would actually see it

But it turns out that the Lord is forgiving

And so Heaven is a landscape

More vast than Earth

And so ‘lost’—

A concept we the living

Have given up

--Lost is something that now only exists in Eternity

Someone can be in the same place as us

And nowhere near us

I thought Heaven was for the happy, I say

And the cloud says—

Happy, maybe, but not ecstatic

Certainly not entertained

You’re at peace is all

Isn’t that enough?

But I’m bored

I don’t say that

But it’s how I feel

I’m bored in Heaven

And I thought I was going to see you here

I was buried on a Saturday

In my Sunday best

My hair was done just right

A hint of a smile crept upon my lips

And nothing the undertaker did

Could seem to fix it

People wept on me

They touched me

One even took my photo

And I lay there imagining you

Feeding me apple slices

Walking with me to the market

Throwing down your key

You’re here, the cloud says

And you’re everywhere

And individuality is a luxury

That you’ll grow to forget

I pictured Heaven like a Cab Calloway dance number

White steps

Top hat

A cane

A tap number

I thought I’d be tapping with you

I try and get a sense of my feet again

So I can tap one

Knock it off, the cloud says

Then goes back to hovering

Over a child’s birthday party

I let go of my feet

But not my fingers

I wiggle one

Then another

I feel a light touch

On my thumbnail

And I know it’s you

I don’t know how

But I know it is

The cloud breaks up

And I close my hand

The smile returns

To where my lips used to be

And Heaven grows

A little smaller

A little closer

Together

The Nuns and The Bear

The nuns go softly towards the bear

The bear cocks its head

And looks at them

He doesn’t trust the nuns

He doesn’t understand them

They pitch their tents

And make their fires

They strum guitars

Under sunhats

Braise meat they brought with them

And laugh at old jokes

With new punchlines

These are not your average nuns

The bear licks its paw

When the nuns approach

He lets them get closer to him

Than he has ever let any human get

But he can’t help himself

He has a curiosity about them

What are they doing here?

In the river, they wash their clothes

And their hair

When it rains, they huddle in the tent

The bear can see them

From his spot between the rocks

Their shadows tell stories

Of prayer and silence

But when the rain finishes

They emerge from the tent

As if they’ve rediscovered where they are

Again and again

When they get near the bear

He kicks back his upper lip

To give them a flash of tooth

So they won’t forget themselves

Or him

That doesn’t stop one of them

From getting a foot away

And smiling at him

Why are you smiling, he wonders

But then he drops his upper lip

And his guard as well

The nuns don’t rustle

He doesn’t rustle

There’s an understanding

That this could all change

And change suddenly

With no previous contract breached

Or agreement vacated

The little nun

Who lost her family in the war

Puts out her hand

The bear assembles an opinion of it

And then steps back, and away

He has disappointed her

And himself

But she doesn’t show it on her face

And he doesn’t eat her face

So it’s not the worst way

This all could have ended

When the nuns pack up and leave the next day

The bear watches them hike back through the forest

Until the light leaves the leaves

And the black and white

Mix with the brown and blush

And the rain starts again

Promising nothing will look the same

And everything will be different

Grandfather on the Ice

Grandfather’s on the ice

Waiting for the tide

To pull him out

The tide?

Is that what the tide does?

We’re not sure

We’re not exactly a scientific people

We put our grandparents on the ice floes

And then we walk away

But two months later

We’ve returned

To spend our long weekend

By the ice

Engaging in leisure activities

Such as—Not Freezing to Death

And—Casual Shivering

And what do we find?

Grandfather—Still on the Ice

Still alive and feeble

Withering away

At the ripe age of forty-two

He’s been existing solely on fish he catches with a net

He’s made out of his own hair, which, luckily for him

Is falling out at accelerated rates

‘Grandfather,’ we yell from a safe distance

Scared to approach him

Since it’s likely he’s now feral

‘You were supposed to float out to sea

And die a dignified death

Of exposure and starvation!’

He doesn’t respond to us

He simply melts ice into a cup

He must have smuggled out of the village

We would never have allowed him

To bring a perfectly good cup

Onto the ice floe with him

Why bother?

And now he’s used it

And his hairnet

To keep himself alive

Well, this is an abomination

After a night under our seal pelts

We wake up at dawn

To find him behaving strangely

Then we realize what he’s doing—

Exercising!

He’s exercising!

It’s as if he has no urge to die at all!

We apologize for our excessive use of exclamation points

In this part of our story

But we mean to infer

The extreme level of agitation

Brought about by seeing how spry and able-bodied

Our dead grandfather was

Because, at this juncture, he is essentially dead

We’ve mourned him

We’ve wept

We’ve divided up most of his valuables

And accused our cousin of stealing his prized cup

Causing quite the rift in our little clan

Only to find out that Grandfather had it

This entire time!

Where do we go from here?

--We ask ourselves

What is to be done?

Our mother, who so grieved when she parted with her father,

Suggests harpooning him

And calling it a day

But, we say, you cannot kill him

For he is already dead

We find ourselves

In quite

The conundrum

Grandfather, for his part, seems to be in great spirits

He’s made himself a little ice chaise

On the floe

And a little ice table

And even a little ice dog

That we see him petting occasionally

Well that’s it, we think, he’s lost his mind

--And this makes us very sad

It’s why we put him on the ice floe

When we did

It’s a horrible thing

To lose one’s sense of self

That’s why we send our elderly out into the everlasting water

Before their minds have a chance to deteriorate

We’ve estimated that the mind begins to erode

Around the age of forty-three or forty-four

And so, we’re always sure to send our elders to their deaths

A year or two before that

How do we come to these estimations?

Well, it's not an exact science
In that it's not exactly a science
More like a feeling
A discomfort
The air of an ending
The trailing off of someone's life

Grandfather sits on the ice floe
And we sit on the shore
Two sides of time
Bound by a line
That goes even deeper
Than the cracks in the ice
That separate the safe from the drowned

We need him to die
So we can stop thinking about him dying
Because thinking about him dying
Makes us think about our own deaths
And those are unpleasant thoughts
That make living difficult

It is, we suppose, the unfortunate thing about death
That it has a way of ruining life
If you let it

We take a few steps towards Grandfather
Sitting on his ice chaise
Petting his ice dog
Whittling a shard of frozen water
Into what looks like a totem

As we approach him
He lets out a breath
And we take ours in

There's a lap of water
There's a whale's howl
There's a cut and chop the cold does
When you insist on walking through it

We extend our hand to Grandfather
And he smiles
As if he knows something
We don't

Then--directly underneath us
The ice
Begins to crack

Romance in Peacetime

Away from the falling candles

Away from the lucky glass

Away from the wine-soaked tablecloths

And the bad news

And the blasts

There we sit on empty dance floors

With the music in our minds

Left of center

Left alone

To be uncertain of ourselves

Now the sunset comes too early

And the sunrise, not at all

We believe in first impressions

Second chances

And third strikes

I have on my old tuxedo

And you wear your party dress

Life’s a dance we never learned

Love’s a trip we never took

Happiness is, well, happiness

A bird calls out

A whippoorwill

A nightjar

At least, that’s what I think it is

Ghosts make more noise than you think

Blessed footsteps

Creaking wood

Are we here or are we not?

Who’s to say?

Why make a fuss?

Lift me up

Onto my feet

I want to try out

These new toes

Is that wind around my hair

Or just the hope of it?

I ply my leg

I pull it back

You sit so softly

Like a child at storytime

I dance for you

You clap for me

I stop

You stare

I drop

You crawl

Around us, wars are ending

And when they’re done

Who will we be?

We’ve had no romance in peacetime

We were built on bombs

And soda walls

Carbonated friction

Caffeinated lives

Living to our own devices

Listening to hearts louder

Than the dead

Won’t we be boring

When all this is over?

Won’t we be heavy

And hearty

And sad?

Like everybody else

That never learned to dance

A dream within a dream

A break within a song

A bird without its voice

A romance without candles

Without perfume, passion, or pursuit

You smother me

And smother me

And smooth me out

So nobody will notice

But it’s too late, you see

It’s much too late

To start another war