When You Find Yourself

-- Inspired by a family member-sadly --

"When You Find Yourself"

Dear Mother

When you find yourself
Look around you
See if it's nice there
Where you ended up

See if everyone there
Tells you what a good mother you are
Because God knows
You don't get enough of that
Back here

Back here
I expected too much of you
I demanded things like...

Time
Energy
Excitement

Perhaps my Crayola masterpieces
Weren't enough to keep you interested
How could they compete with whole galleries
Featuring nude paintings of you
Done by artists half your age
With mothering complexes

I suppose that at my age
The age you were
When you had me
I should be more understanding
Of you and your subpar parenting

But to be honest
I'm less sympathetic now
Than I've ever been

Because now I know
Where all the exit doors are

The Don't Fall in Love With a Moron Door
The Don't Get Pregnant By a Moron Door
The Don't Mope and Sulk When the Moron Leaves You Door
The Don't Blame Your Child For Your Bad Luck Door

So many doors
And which one did you take?

The Find Yourself Door

I know that every self-help guru
And single gal pal of yours
Told you that you were right
In wanting to discover yourself

That it would make you a better mother
To become a more well-rounded person

That going to Paris
And spending too much on designer clothing
And sending postcards when you felt like it
That Grandma had to throw out
Because you wrote them when you were drunk
And occasionally you could actually smell the liquor
Mixed in with the cardboard and the perfume

I'm sure you thought all of that
Was important
Because you were becoming
An intelligent, sophisticated
Renaissance Woman

Well

Though I hate to burst
That lovely Parisian bubble
I feel I must

I

Didn't

Give

A

Flying

Fuck

If

You

Were

Well

Rounded

I wanted a mother
Not a well-rounded mother
I wanted a 50's mother

I wanted fresh baked cookies
I wanted rides in the station wagon
I wanted goodnight kisses

I had NO interest
In a sophisticated woman
None

No child
Wants
A socially fulfilled mother

The trick to being a mother
Is to have no life
And SMILE ANYWAY

I didn't need you constantly happy
I just needed you there

Oh, I know what you're thinking
As you read this
In your flat in London
With Jeof with an 'O'
A man young enough to be MY son
Lounging beside you

You're wondering why I'm putting all the blame on you
Why none of it is going to Dad

Well here's why

Because people expect men to make lousy fathers
Men have been making lousy fathers since the dawn of time
Some turn out all right
But when they don't
Mothers are supposed to pick up the slack

Is that fair?
No
But guess what
You had a child
Not an umpire
Nobody said 'fair' was in the playing cards

Women are supposed to have an instinct for mothering
And you, my dear matriarch, had NONE

Even I, a reformed spinster, when passing a stray cat
Will take it to the nearest shelter
You'd probably look at it
And wonder what kind of coat you could turn it into

I don't blame Daddy
Because I didn't spend nine months
INSIDE OF HIM

That should mean something to you

It's not that I don't hate him
It's just that I don't think of him at all
Whereas you
You I think of ALL THE TIME

I've thought of you in Morocco
Sunning yourself on a beach in Rio
Tasting fine wine in Napa
All the while hoping to find yourself

And now you're in London
And I hear it's dreary there
This time of year
And it's lovely here
But you still can't bear to be here
Because here is where I am

Here is where reality is
And that fits you
About as well
As those skirts you still try to pull off

I'm so sorry
That I am a constant reminder
Of your failure

I'm so sorry
That I couldn't be more intriguing
That I couldn't be the Sally Bowles of daughters
That I couldn't be sweet enough to raise myself
That I couldn't figure out how to chase you
At the ripe old age of thirteen

I apologize, Mother

Oh, and as a little pre-post-script
I'd like you to know
That I recently entered a door of my own

The 'Have the Baby' Door

Not with a Moron either
But with a good old-fashioned idiot
A one-night stand
That is about to last me
Eighteen years

It would be cliche to say
That I will be a better mother than you
A hamster that eats its young
Is a better mother than you
Because at least she does it
So that the child won't have to suffer through life
Because it's blind or an eight-year-old
Has unwittingly touched it

Yes, I will be a better mother
And in the bargain
I will become a lousy person

Not interesting
Not stimulating
Not full of interesting party fodder

I will be boring, Mother
And believe me
I can't wait

So though I know you're still searching
Looking for yourself
In every crack and cranny
The world has to offer

I'd like to present you
With a scenario

Imagine that when you find yourself
You won't like what you find very much
Because at the end of the day, Mother
'Yourself' is just your past and your choices
And you haven't done very well in either area
Now have you?

I'm not sure I could ever love you, Mother
Forgiveness I can give
Because I don't want my child
Living inside the same body
As my hate and bitterness
But any love I have
Has got to go to her

That being said
She might have some love in her for you
Or maybe not
But I'd still like you to entertain the idea

Of coming back
And finding out

Sincerely
Your Daughter

Mozie Freelander Lies About Sleeping With David Bowie

So I get to the concert
It was in Boston
Next to the Pea Pod
Which was where I used to go
To get drunk and meet guys from Spain
When I was going through my Spanish phase

1991 was a wild year

I didn't know who was playing
I just wandered into the venue
Said hi to Paulie
Who I was screwing on the side
When I felt like a little Russian

(Paulie was only 5'4)

Walked past Paulie
And right onto the stage

I didn't care who was playing
Chances were
I knew the words

He was halfway though a cover
Of 'Do You Believe in Magic?'
Before I realized who he was

That was back during the Tin Machine years
And for a second
I almost walked off the stage

Then he winked at me
And I knew I wasn't going anywhere
It was regret at first sight

After the show
I signed a few autographs
While he waited for me

I was big in Boston in those days
Mostly because I juggled
Juggling was big in the early nineties
If you couldn't juggle
You were a nobody

Mozie Freelander was no nobody

I remember Bowie
I called him Crossbow
But that's a personal thing
So strike that from your record

S-teeeeeeeeeeee-rike

I remember him asking
What my real name was
And I told him

I can't tell you
Because I'm an artist
And an artists needs her non de plume

I'll give you a hint though
It could be Mary Ann Rosenfeld
Or it could be Jane Brown

I am a woman
Of many signatures

Back to Bow Tie Pasta

We get to the hotel
And the next thing I know
I'm eating puff pastry
Off his stomach

He hummed during our lovemaking
Which, by the way, lasted for hours
I'm confident that I'm the reason
He missed the Quebec stop on his tour

(The Canadians have never stopped hating me for that.)

He used to dress me up like Tony Curtis
And make me act out scenes
From 'Some Like It Hot' with him

I told him I do a better Jack Lemon
But what Bo Bo wants, Bo Bo gets
That's just the way it was

He used to fill the bathtub
With grape jelly and almonds
And make me sit in it
While he stirred the whole thing
With a giant wooden spoon
Wearing a wig
That made him look like Strega Nona

I won't say it didn't turn me on

Something about a man
With a wooden spoon
And an Italian accent
Just gets my cupboards lined

Eight amazing days went by
During which he wrote more songs
Than I could count

I became his muse
And I believe I can say with great certainty
That the LP 'Tin Machine II'
Had a lot of Mozie Freelander in it

We agreed to part ways
And never speak again

It broke my heart
But then again
So did Christian Slater

(Which is a story for another day)

People call me a liar
But I'll tell you something
Before 1991 David Bowie couldn't juggle
And as of 1993
He was up to four balls at a time

...Need I say more?

Baby Big Head Haikus

1.

Oh, Baby Big Head
Don't topple onto me, please
Your head would hurt me

2.

Oh, Baby Big Head
Your face isn't big enough
For your massive head

3.

Oh, Baby Big Head
Your body is now buckling
Under all that weight

4.

Oh, Baby Big Head
Putting those earrings on you
Dots on a planet

5.

Oh, Baby Big Head
What goes on inside that skull?
Ferris wheels or love?

6.

Oh, Baby Big Head
Pork Pie Extravaganza
Your ice cream flavor

7.

Yo, Baby Big Head
Where would your big head be at?
Try it on me, Dome

8.

Oh, Baby Big Head
Shake, rattle, and roll that bulb
'Til you can light up

9.

Oh, Baby Big Head
No, don't shake it; I'm sorry
Then peas might fall out

10.

Oh, Baby Big Head
You astound me in your depth
Miles of hair and thought

That Girl on the Beach

She's going to test the sand
Test and see if it's okay
To relax her feet in it
Let it creep around her
And keep her toes cool

She's going to sit on the planks
And thank God it's still warm enough out
To wear sandals to nice restaurants
Without getting dirty looks

She's going to wonder
If she should have said 'Yes'
When he asked her to go with him
Back home to an unfamiliar city
With no water and no waves

With nothing to do but stare at him
And hope boredom doesn't rear its ugly head

She's going to push her hair back
And wonder if it still smells like his apartment
That smell that only rich people's apartments have
That mix of leather sofas and gourmet herbs

She's going to walk to the water
And tap the edge of it
Where it hits the sand
And turns it into something else

She's going to go up to her ankles
And then stop

Never a good idea
To go in too deep

Go Get Me a Miracle

You're gonna need to move a mountain
And I'm talkin' a real mountain
I'm not talkin' a hill
I want to see you move Everest
Killamyjaro, somethin' like that
Because that'd be a miracle

And you
Getting back in this house
Would take a miracle

I'm gonna need to see you walk on orange juice
Not just water
That's been done
I ain't impressed by that

I wanna see you turn all the water in the Pacific
Into tasty, fresh orange juice
And then walk across it
While I sit there on the shore
Sipping my juice
And watching you get your feet wet

Because that's what it's gonna take
That's what you're gonna have to do
To get yourself back into my life

You'd need to take a koala bear
And make it into a cheetah

You'd need to take a sweater
And make it into a convertible

You'd need to take me
And make me innocent again
Because that, baby
Would be a miracle

You asked me
If we could ever be us again
And I wanted to say 'Never'
But I guess
I suppose
That if the Lord Jesus
Descended from Heaven
With Jimmi Hendrixx
And Liberace

And they all sang 'Love the One You're With'
And played Monopoly with me
And told me I should take you back

I'd consider it

So there you go, baby
Go get me a miracle
Then we'll talk

Falling in Love with August

Big mistake
Playing with him
Better off loving a sunset
At least you get one of those
Every day

Gotta be dumb
To fall in love
With a summer boy

Whatcha goin' do come fall?
When he heads back
To where he's from
And he's never from here
And he sure ain't movin'
So whatcha goin' do?

Go with him?
Doubtful
Long distance?
Doubtful

Haven't you heard?
Nobody writes love letters anymore

That's why you won't call him anything
Because his only title is
Summer Boy

That's your friends aren't sure what he is
Because he's headed out
Before he's movin' in

That's why you don't fight with him
That's why you don't act like he's your boyfriend
That's why you don't let him walk two steps
Without pulling him back

Because more than two steps
And he's home
And home isn't you
Is it?

You might as well
Have fallen in love
With August

At least you get that
Once a year

I Will Not Be Christine McVie

I will not be your Christine
I will not do it
I have no interest in it
I will not, will not
I will not be Christine McVie

I will not have you under-appreciate me
I will not have my songs
Halfway down the line-up
When they are far superior
To your bullshit crystal ball songs
That sound like Gregorian chants
Set to lesbian sex noises

I will not stand idly by
While you get called a legend
While you get interviewed
While you fuck everybody's husband
And write songs about it
That I have to sing back-up on

I will not strive and slave over my art
To hear people say shit like--

'Oh! You wrote that! You write?'

Fuck you
Fuck you and your bangles
Fuck your spangles
Fuck your glittery nonsense
Fuck your cape
You cape-wearing bitch

I wish I had fucked your husband
Then wrote a song called--

'I Fucked Your Husband, Kooky Bitch'

And dedicated to you
And made you play tambourine on it
Just to piss you off

I will not stand at the back of the stage
Like some keyboard playing hunchback
While you, the former coke addict
Jerks off some imaginary asshole on stage
As soon as your memory recall kicks in
During 'Stand Back'
Which isn't even A FUCKING FLEETWOOD MAC SONG!

Yet we let you perform it on our tours
Because people like

People can go fuck themselves

I have aged SOOOOO much better than you
And I'm relegated to the dark corner
Off-stage right

That's why I don't tour with you anymore
That's why we're not friends anymore
Because you made me your Christine McVie
Because you wanted to be the star
While I was 'that other one'
Who people only sporadically like
When they want to sound original

I will NOT be that person
I will be LINDSEY before I will be Christine
And don't tell me I should be flattered
Don't tell me I'm relevant
Because though I may be smarter
And more talented
Only one of us got to be on the cover of Rolling Stone

Only one of us got a solo career
Only one of us is front and center
Only one of us got a VH1 Storytellers
So you can just go fuck yourself

I will not be that person
I will not be the Keith Richards
I will not be the Joe Perry
I will not be the Sammy Hagar

And I sure as fuck
Will not be
Your Christine McVie

But I'm sure you'll take solace
In being able
To write a song about this friendship ending

You can turn me into a goblin
And you can be a beautiful witch
And you can talk in weird metaphors
And you can have drag queens worship you
And I'll be moving on with my life

Set that to music

See you later

Ain't Nothin' Wrong With You That a Woman Can't Fix

-- For the girls --

"Ain't Nothin' Wrong With You That a Woman Can't Fix"

I ain't never met a problem
That a woman can't fix

So this boy broke your heart

Go call your mother
Let her tell you
How your father
Wrote checks in her name
And left her a baby to raise
And played his game
With the neighbor next door
Some whore with two kids of her own
Who obviously didn't have a mother
As good as yours is

Go give your business to your mother
And she'll tell you you're much farther than your father
And her were when they were your age
And your rage will subside
While she confides in you for the first time
That surviving wasn't always something
She was confident she could do

But she used to look at you
And push through till she got to a place
With her son on the phone
Trying to hide the fact that he's been crying
And she's dying to go kill
Whoever brought this on

Instead she tells you to go on
And doesn't give advice
Just splices together enough
To let you know you'll be okay
And along the way
She imparts a few tricks

Trust me, honey
There ain't nothing wrong with you
That a woman can't fix

Go ask your grandma
What a broken heart is

Go ask your aunt
What her first boyfriend did

Left her out on the curb
Like a discarded chair
And dared to call back
Two years later
Looking to see if he could take back
The little nothing he left
But that nothing was good
And in its place was your Aunt
And this time she had
A capital "A"

And your Aunt with an "A"
Told the asshole with an "A"
He should have stayed around long enough
To see her turn into the bitch
She became

Grandma says her first broken heart
Was mended by bending herself into
A cocktail dress
And messing around with a guest
At her less-than-best friend's wedding

And you blush when you hear this
But you laugh at it too
To find out that sometimes
What you have to do is attend
Someone else's happiness
To remember what it's
Supposed to look like

And both of them tell you
To find new adjectives

Find "reliable" and "sturdy"
Not "charming and slick"

Believe me, baby
There ain't nothin' wrong with you
That a woman can't fix

Call up all your girlfriends
And go out for the night
Don't let your plight stop you
From dropping yourself off
At your best friend's front door
So you can go get drinks
And not think about what he's doing somewhere

They'll dance with you
They'll get you trashed
And soon you won't care about anything
But who's driving home

And you wake up on a couch
To the smell of bacon and eggs
Begging yourself to remember
If you actually thought of him last night
But right then your best friend walks out
With your fresh breakfast plate
Making your bed while you're still in it
But also making you feel right at home
In her one-bedroom walk-in closet

You're the closest you've ever been
To a friend
To anyone
This early
In the morning

You push yourself into the car
And this time you're not aiming it
At walls made of brick

Deep down you know
That you don't need a man
Just several good women

Oh sure
You need a man for certain things
But a man rarely handles
Being a band-aid well
So to hell with trying
To make him see
How hard you've been crying

Go call your mother
She's got noise like this licked

Ain't nothin' wrong with you
That a woman can't fix

That's a Problem, Not a Preference

You want someone fun
Who won't challenge you intellectually
So you can feel comfortable
In your mediocrity
Believing that you like simplicity

That's a problem, not a preference

'Dumb' is not a preference

You want someone fun
Who can take care of you
And can cash in your credit
Cut up your debit card
And discard your bills in the trash

That's a problem, not a preference

'Goldmine' is not a preference

You want someone fun
Who's done before you've begun
Meaning they can walk but can't run
So you can run around all you want
Because they're slow on the uptake
And take you at your word

That's a problem, not a preference

'Oblivious' is not a preference

You want someone fun
Who reminds you of Dad
Who's bad to you the way he was
And just cause he's older than you
He'll know what to do
When your neuroses kick in
It's like you're beginning all over again

That's a problem, not a preference

'Plays Into My Daddy Issues' is not a preference

You want someone fun
Who can be your co-dependent
Independently you're simply messes
But together you're better at screwing up
Doing up the town on a Monday
Straying than playing on each other's nerves
Until you get the break-up you deserve

That's a problem, not a preference

'Bad influence' is not a preference

You're supposed to shoot for better
The point is to find a lover
Not a shrink
Think about what you want
And what you need
And if you believe yourself
Then you should date yourself

You tend to do well
With men that deceive

Holly Explains Bullying to Her Mother

Okay, I know what this is about.
I know you had a meeting with Mrs. Brugel.
And I know she told you about my incidents at recess.
The incidents involving Danielle Moreno.
And before you say anything
I'd like to speak on my behalf.

I don't know, Mother
If you remember being an eight-year-old girl
But even in the event that you do
It seems crucial to remind you
That I am not growing up
As part of the 'smoke grass and screw' generation
That you and Dad did

There are no more lovefests in the back of some disco
There are no more naked campfires at the commune
There are no more sock hops at the Juke Joint

Now there's class warfare
And let me tell you something

Your daughter is a goddammed general

Unfortunately, in war
There are casualties

Danielle Moreno
Is one such casualty

Now

I know you were bullied
When you were in school
So you probably sympathize with the fact
That poor Danielle has to come to school
In mis-matched clothing
Because her mother is color-blind

I'm sure you can identify
With the fact that Danielle
Doesn't merely have braces
But headgear that surround her
Making her look like a character
From Hellraiser

(I've been raiding the VHS closet)

I'm sure you're just devastated
To find out that your daughter
Who you think is such an angel

(Because you're so hopped up on Klonnies
It's amazing you can even focus on me right now)

Has been picking on another child
To the point where that child
Now has to be homeschooled

And I'm sure you want answers

You want to know why
Why, oh why
Have I become this monster?

Well, Mother, here's your answer:

Back the hell off me, woman

You have no idea the kind of power struggles
I endure on a daily basis
It took me a month to rise to the top of the third grade
And if you think I'm giving it up
To assuage your parental guilt
Then you can just give me up for adoption
And let someone with balls raise me
Because I don't shine my iron fist everyday
Just to have you look down on it

I may be a tyrant
But I'm a damn good one
There have already been three assassination attempts
And we haven't even gotten to Easter break yet

When they're trying to kill you
That means you're doing something right

Ohhh I'm sure
If it were up to you
I would step aside
Go into hiding
Transfer into Mrs. Dern's class
Where the classroom has a weird smell
And the kids are basically special needs

Brenna Davidson would take over Mrs. Brugel's class
And a lot more people would suffer
Than just Danielle Moreno

Having me in power
Is serving the greater good, Mother

So no, in answer to your unasked question
I will not relinquish power
And I will continue to torment Danielle
So that everybody knows not to fuck with me
And if you have a problem with that
Then I can get on the phone
Dial D.C.Y.F.
And tell them about the time I found you in the bathtub
Half-dead and drunk as a skunk
Because your latest on-the-side found out
You're about as fun in bed
As a bag of cabbage

There
Are we done now?

The Ferris Wheel

You can lay in the gold
You can sit in a chair
By the wayside
Side by side with your Dad
And let him tell you
That he's proud of you
By the way he adjusts the cap
Resting lightly on your head

You can see your house from here
You can see the top window
Where your bedroom lives
In a converted attic
That still smells like damp wood
And mothballs

You can see your Mom on the ground
Looking up at you
With both hands raised to wave
As if to say
She'd catch you if you fell

You pull down your hat tight
And the wheel speeds up
So that you're on the ground
And in the air
And in the sky
And back again
Before you have time
To estimate your arrival
At each place

You can see the wires running
Up and down the pier
And the sand being seared
By the mid-August sun
Drums down on the back of your neck
And you can feel your skin
Turn a different shade
And you bade your summer good-bye

You're around seven then
And the next time you'll be nine
After having dined with Dad
When he told you the bad news
About Mom and him
And the trip you'd be taking
Before the breaking of the family
Was complete

You wouldn't ride the wheel
For awhile after that
Remembering the cap
And how light it felt on your head
How it felt like it could fly off
At any given moment

You remember looking down at your mother
And wondering if she thought
That she could really do it
That she could really catch you
If you fell

And you're around ten
Before you remember these things again
And you're around fourteen
Before they mean anything to you
And you're around thirty
Before you're on the wheel with your son
Sharing similar news
While his mother is off on a cruise
Re-finding what she's lost of herself

And you go around
And you go around
And you go around

And you feel like you've come so far
And hit so many points
And yet when it all stops

You haven't really gone
Anywhere

He's Assembling an Army of Untalented People

He's assembling an army
Of untalented people
To conquer believability
And bend it into unbelievable submission
While systematically destroying
Anything about it
That made it interesting

Take Me Down the Stairs

-- This is for Dillon. Working with him is a real pleasure. He mentioned to me that he's always wanted to play a crazy person. Dillon, here's your crazy person. --

"Take Me Down the Stairs"

Where you going?

Oh

Down where?

There?

Oh

Okay

Take me

Let's go down

I wanna see what's underneath me

I wanna test the waters

I wanna see how hot it gets

The closer you get to the center

I can feel the heat

When I stamp down on the floor

To let them know I'm here

See

They don't know I'm here

Because I'm so high up past them

That all they can feel

Is the weight of me resting above their heads

Hear me swinging?

Hear me swinging around up here

Do you know what sound you make

When you're holding your breath?

You do you know

You make a sound

Why don't we go down?

Stop looking down

Just go

Just move

I'll go too

I'll go right after you

You'll feel me move behind you

Touch you lightly on the back of your neck

Gotta be barely there

To have someone really notice you

You know?

Of course you know

So let's go down the stairs

Let's see who's living down here

There's nobody up here

Nobody but me

We're Looking

We told him she was on Bassett Street
Between the used book store
And the second-hand clothing store
Across from the gelato emporium

He put a push-pin in the map
Even though the map is eighteen years old
And Bassett street no longer intersects
With Cohaset Street anymore

As soon as the pin was in
He went rushing out the door
Down the four flights of stairs
To try and catch her
Before she left for the Shangri-la
In his mind

We do this to him
And we don't know why
We like the guy
But it annoys us
How we're supposed to be
His 24/7 ex-patrol

Have we seen her at the mall?
Have we seen her downtown?
Have we seen her jogging
Maybe near the college?

We never do
And we resent being asked
But we like the guy
So we also tell him that we see her
When we never see her

There are push-pins
All over the wall
Past the place
Where the map ends

It's like we saw her near the clock
It's like we saw her near the Rambo poster
It's like we saw her near the bookcase
It's like she's everywhere
Except in his room
Where he'd like her

Back to the night of the fight
When he let her walk out
And she walked into nowhere
And never came back

He never gets discouraged
Never challenges us
Never asks how she looked
What she was wearing
Why we didn't try and stop her

Maybe he knows
Maybe he knows we're lying
Maybe that's okay with him
Maybe he knows that sometimes
A door only closes once

And if he asked us
If we've seen her
We know what we'd say

We're looking

We'd say
We're looking

Wave Your Flag

Wave your flag kid
You've won
You've beat them all
You're standing tall on a mountain top
Where the bliss exceeds the chapped lip kisses
You get from the yetis
Who got you up here

Wave your flag kid
On fifth avenue
Where you lead the parade
Through a powerless barrage
Of antiquated thought
Brought on by fearmongering
And magazine subscriptions

But you've won
You've won
Hey, dammit you've won

Wave your flag
With the red and gold stars
Wave your flag
With the hen and the bears
Wave your flag
Wave it like you care

Wave your flag at the widows
Who just stopped wearing black
Wave your flag at the ninjas
Who just stopped practicing
Wave your flag at the moon men
Who just got back from Mars

Wave your flag
Wave it proud
Wave it long
Wave it until the wind takes it

Then follow it off
With your eyes
And act surprised
When you can't see it
Anymore

She's Gonna Take My Picture

She's gonna put me in a field
A field of flowers
With a sunny day ray of light
Casting me right
Ain't she though?

Get my good side
Get my bad side
Get my guard up
Get me making faces
Get me upside down

She's gonna hang me from my toes
She's gonna run me up the flagpole
Down into my socks
Rocks stepping on me for a change
Crashing on the port
Of the shore
With the ships
Dripping rain onto my face
To make me look like Heaven

Don't I look like Heaven?
Don't I look angelic?
Don't I look like trouble?

Can you capture that?
Can you trap me in your lens
Bend me down into a silver frame
Game to game, mindfucking game

Pleasing palates sophistocado
Enduring unspeaking atrocities
Nonsense words and elevator music

Get me coming off the train
Get me coming onto a married man
Get me coming to my senses
With my nonsense words
Reappearing in another stanza
Dancing with an old man
And his cane

She's gonna take my picture
Aren't you?
Aren't you?

Just tell me where to stand
Just tell me how to sit
Just tell me when the flash goes on
I may not notice it

So It Was Crazy to Stand in the Rain Waiting

-- Christin's Suggestion --

"So It Was Crazy to Stand in the Rain Waiting"

So it was crazy
So I was wet
So you were clearly
Not amused

Not even a little bit

So your neighbors called the cops
Not realizing my brother is a cop
Who called them off
And personally begged me
To come home
And stop humiliating the family

So dogs were barking
So a raccoon approached me
And then seemed to shake its head
In judgment of my predicament

So curtains were drawn, then undrawn
So songs were sung
So promises were made
So hostage negotiators were proposed
So a fool was born

So what?

So it was crazy to stand in the rain waiting

I wasn't just waiting
I was hoping
I stood there hoping

I'm still hoping

I'm hoping the rain stops eventually
I'm hoping the leaves change colors
I'm hoping the snowmen are prevalent this winter
I'm hoping all this makes a good book one day

I'm hoping
I'm just hoping

I'm hoping you let me keep hoping
I'm hoping you at least give me that

The Skateboarder

-- Describe the photo in ten lines --

"The Skateboarder"

There's gold dust on the ground
And the ground looks like water
He's looking down at it
Like he's scared to know
He has to come down to it

And he's barely touching the board
And he might never touch it again
Orange lights hanging over him
Like the night's trying to touch him
Or he's trying to touch the night

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kaintero/3817325926/

Diner With No 'R'

We ain't got an 'R'

Don't mean we ain't got food
Don't mean we ain't got tuna
Don't mean we ain't got spoons
Don't mean we ain't got lobster sauce

Don't mean we ain't happy
Don't mean we ain't livin'
Don't mean we ain't eatin'
Don't mean we ain't ready
Don't mean we ain't open

Don't mean we don't got parking
Don't mean we don't got stir fry
Don't mean we don't got sushi
Don't mean we don't got pita bread
Don't mean we don't got borscht

Don't mean we dislike foreigners
Don't mean we dislike Buddhists
Don't mean we dislike trapeze artists
Don't mean we dislike tarragon
Don't mean we dislike organic farmers

Don't mean we ain't been reviewed
Don't mean we ain't been robbed
Don't mean we ain't been lucky
Don't mean we ain't been greasy
Don't mean we ain't been focused on our culinary pursuits

Don't mean nothin'
Spellin' and signs
And neons and nickels
And dimes and dimestore hookers
Don't make the burger better

We do that

We're a diner with no 'R'
But there ain't no 'R'
In 'Eat'

Let a Pregnant Woman Mow the Lawn

Don't get up
Don't get up now
Don't bother
Why bother

Sit on your ass
Just sit there
Just look like the lump you are
Just sit and be yourself
Be the man I married

Don't surprise me now
I wouldn't want the baby
To feel the shock
Ripple through my body

Let a pregnant woman mow the lawn
Why not?

Let's be unconventional
Let's be unique
Let's let the neighbors think
That I'm a pioneer woman

If women in the 1600's could work the fields
And milk the cows and kill the pigs
And then give birth
I guess I can mow a lawn

Maybe I'll only live as long as a woman
In the 1600's did too
Maybe I'll churn butter and die
And maybe you'll catch TB
And maybe Gretchen will become a flapper

Wouldn't that all be something?

Gretchen, your baby brother is mowing the lawn right now
Isn't that something?
He isn't even born yet
And already he's done more household chores
Than your father has

I wonder what else I can do pregnant

Should I empty the rain gutters?
Should I fix the electrical wiring?
Should I climb up the roof
And jump up and down
Until I find the weak spot
Where the rain's coming in?

Why not?
I'm rugged now
Aren't I?

So no, please
Don't get up
Don't get up now
Don't bother

I suspect that any minute now
If the heat doesn't take me
I might just start enjoying myself

As Long As I Can See My Hands

Lock me away
Put me next to stone
Next to cold hard stone
Where I can write my name
Chiseled into the gray

Where I can spend my days
Hearing an ocean I can't see
Being afraid to sit or stand
For fear I'll discover my dimensions
Pretending I'm okay here
Locked away in the dark

I'll be fine
As long as I can see my hands

When I can see the scar I got
From cutting my finger
Slicing up apple pieces
To put in her mouth

When I can see the lines
From a time well-spent
On a place where a man's mistakes
Are greater than the homes he built
The stones he put in the ground
Stones like the one that surround him now
That kept the cold from hitting
Good decent people

When I can see my lifeline
I'll know I got enough time
To make what I've done wrong right

When I close my eyes for the night
I'll sleep with my hands over my face
And place myself back in her arms

When I can taste the metal
On the bars and on the ground
Without even opening my mouth

When I can see the light
Hit the edge of the ring
That says it'll bring me back
To the one person I never hurt

I know I'll be just fine
Just as long as I can see that oath

As long as I can see my hands

Your Big Geek Loves You

Dear Baby

You are my Twilight Zone marathon
You are my collector's edition comic book
You are my vintage Tetris arcade game
You are my first copy of Dune
You are my trekkie convention

You are my Dungeons and Dragons
You are my newest computer
You are my imaginary girlfriend come to life
You are my leather bound book of coins
You are my engraved pocket watch

You are a game system
You are an anime night with friends
You are a signed Blade Runner screenplay
You are an 'A' in every class
You are a fencing tournament

You are the one who laughs when I fall on flat ground
Then helps me up
And dusts me off

You are the one who watches eight-part sci-fi miniseries with me
Then watches them again
Two days later
At 2am

You are the one who makes me feel like
I'm the coolest guy
In any room

And I love you, baby

Your big geek loves you

Just thought you should know

Amongst the Donuts

Amongst the strawberry jelly she lives
Amongst the tiny townspeople
Amongst their disdain

Who reside in the chocolate frosting
Who play inside the boston creme
Who spend their lives
Riding around
Making tracks

In powdered sugar

She climbs through their existence
Taking care not to disrupt their feuding
For they are a divided people

The sprinkled girls
Dare not date
The plain old boys

And nobody can make heads or tails
Of the Manager's Special
But they all assume
Nepotism is involved somehow

The woman will occasionally tickle the idea
Of shrinking herself down
To the size of the people
Living amongst the donuts

She imagines herself meeting a glazed honey man
Who will wear suspenders and smell of beeswax
Who will make love to her in the honey fields
In the crests and valleys
Of a land where milk is missing
But honey is as the dirt is

She glides her hands across the tops of these donuts
Letting her fingertips get a sense of the magic
Lying there on the surface
That the donut people are all but too used to
And then she brings her hands back up to her lips
And makes dots of different flavors and textures
On the spots where she is dry

She is a goddess among atheists
She is a tyrant among senators
She is a lover among eunuchs

This is a woman amongst the donuts
And she is hungry

The Ride from Syracuse

If you can get her to talk
You can probably get her
To talk about it

If you can make that happen
It should happen
Sometime on the ride back
From Syracuse

If you can find the right song
On the million song Ipod
Then you can play it
And hear her soft breath
Turn into a light voice
Trimming the edges of the lyrics

If you can persuade her
To bring up what happened in Boston
And why she doesn't want to go back
And why she's headed to Maine instead
Where she can sit on a lake
And try not to fall in

If you can ask without begging
If you can comfort without smothering
If you can touch without touching
If you can do it
You should do it

But you have to do it
On the ride from Syracuse

Because once you get back
You'll be back in a place
Where you are who you are
And she is who she is
And you're stuck in your assignments
As two friends who barely know each other
And who wouldn't be right together

If you can convince her to eat
At the roadside diner you stop at
Where the turkey club isn't so bad
And the pie is actually really good
And there are more silent truckers
Than there are happy families

If you can tap your fingers near her plate
See if she finds this silly enough to laugh at
Your attempt to drum out the song she was singing
In the car on the way back from Syracuse

If you can get her to laugh
You can save her
You can save every part of her
And stop the slipping
Dripping pieces
Drenched in uncertainty
As they fly through your eyes
Into the present
As it turns into past

If you can remind her
That people are malleable
That they shift slightly
But that they DO shift

That they're more clay
Then brittle coastline
And crumbling pillars
Of empty personality

If you can look at her
And love her
And impress it into her mind
That this is her life jacket
That you are her port
From the storm in Boston

If you can be better
Than the man she chased to Syracuse
Then she won't need to go to Maine
And fish every day for answers
In a lake of souvenirs

If you can make her love you
If you can do it
Then do it

But you have to do it
On the ride from Syracuse

Because once the car stops
And she's back in front of her house
A mere twenty-four hours
Before she's on the road again
Alone though, without you

Because once the radio's off
And there's still no talking
And you're too scared to say
Stay, just stay

Because once she truly believes
That home has been drained
Of every opportunity at getting past this
This indescribable turn of events

She'll go
And she'll go
And she'll never stop going

So try
Just try

Try to make her talk
Try to make her laugh
Try to make her look up at the road
Going on ahead of you and her
In that tiny car
That keeps going
With lousy parts
And bad brakes

Try to make her see
That life is full of opportunities
To break down
And yet everything's still going
Everyone's still moving

And Syracuse is behind
And Boston is behind
And she's next to you
And you're going

You're going

You're not quite gone

Crazy Seemed Right

Do you know I considered hiring you a gospel choir?

At one point
That actually seemed like a good idea to me

Getting a group of spirited Baptists
To serenade you
With some sort of secular-yet-non-offensive song

Something like--

'Gotta Have Me Go With You'

or

'Say You Love Me'

And I was going to be the leader
Of this renegade gospel choir
Standing outside your apartment
Like John Cusack
Except in place of a boombox
Playing 'In Your Eyes'

I was going to have eighteen to twenty southerners
Belting out 'Always Be My Baby'

Yup
That seemed reasonable to me

Crazy seemed right
Isn't that something?

What are the odds
That another person
Is going to go that crazy over you?

Okay, maybe that's scary
Maybe that's a crazy thought
But can't it also be kind of...

I don't know

I know my odds aren't good
I know that
I know that nobody's going crazy over me
Anytime soon

So I know I have to hope for you
I have to at least hope
That you look at me
And feel like I feel
Every time my phone rings
And your name pops up

Do you know I was going to dance on the highway?

When we went to Charlie's party
And I drove you home
And you were kinda drunk
But not in a bad way
And we sang along to the radio
And 'Love the One You're With' came on
And the windows were down
And your hair was up
And we were...

We were really happy
Not even fakin' it
But really happy

Weren't we?

After I dropped you off
You don't know this
Uh...

It's crazy
I know

I danced on the highway
I felt so elated
I felt like a balloon
Like someone filled me up with something
And I was going go right out the driver's side window

So I stopped the car
And I left the radio on
And the keys in the ignition
And I got out
And I danced

I danced right in the breakdown lane
And when I saw there were no cars coming
I went out into the road
And I danced around
Like a madman

It was crazy
You made me crazy
And crazy seemed right

And all I'm askin'
All I'm sayin' is

A man who dances on the highway is crazy
But isn't a man who loves you
Who really loves anybody
As much as I love you

Isn't that man crazy too?

Maybe that's what you need
From anybody
Maybe you need a little crazy
Maybe finding someone who only sort of loves you
Who you sort of love
Maybe that's a key to longevity
But it sure ain't a key to happiness

Don't you want to be with the guy
Who wanted to skywrite for you?
The guy who wanted to name a fjord after you?
The guy who curled up next to his phone
When he went to bed after tiring himself out
By doing the twist on I-95
In case for any reason you called?

Don't you want that guy?
I know you're not supposed to
I know you're supposed to run
I know the theory is that I'll end up
Turning into a cat-murdering lunatic

But if I could promise you that I'm not
If I could say that I know I might be crazy
And that might be why I'm not
Why I'm just in love

If I could promise
Would that make it easier
To love me back?

Would it start to feel right
The way how I feel
Feels right?

I danced on the highway
Because you were the last person I saw
Before I went to bed

That's gotta be something to love
Doesn't it?
Doesn't it sort of seem right?

My Homeless Man

Larissa, it was spontaneous
That's what you have to understand
It was completely spontaneous

I was in New York
Visiting Kyra

She's opening the gallery this week
Paintings about limitless abandon
Represented by dead chipmunks

Something like that

So obviously I couldn't GO to the gallery opening
Because most of my daughter's work
Makes me ill

Not that I'm not progressive
But I draw the line at urine-stained library cards
And stuffed animals resembling members of the Donnor party

(How she ever found the photos to do the stuffed--)

ANYWAY

I was in New York for about five hours
Before I was headed home
Walking back to the station

(Which always clears my head)

And there he was
Right on the sidewalk

Veal

That's his name, Veal

I don't think it's his real name
But it's what he likes to be called

Don't ask me what it was, Larissa
Maybe it's the equivalent of seeing a dog you love
Sitting in the pet store window

It wasn't that I simply wanted to help
I mean, obviously I do
I want to help all homeless people
But it's just so overwhelming
I mean there are so many of them
And I only have so many guest bedrooms

ANYWAY

Something about Veal

(I remember asking his name then saying--Like Neil? NEIL? MAYBE NEIL?)

I just knew
Looking at him
That he would be fine
Somewhere else

It just seemed so clear to me
That he was only meant to be homeless
In New York City

And I mean, who wouldn't be homeless in New York City?
You should see the price of a cheese platter in a restaurant there
You can get new cheekbones for cheaper

(If you catch Dr. Rosenblatt in a good mood)

The only reason I'm so well-off
Or lucky, I should say 'lucky'
Is because I live in Tilton, Connecticut

It's positively impossible NOT to live well here

So it just occurred to me
Maybe Veal would do much better
If he lived with me

Well, you know me
As soon as I decide something
It's decided

I picked him up
Brought him to the train station
Got him a ticket
And away we went

It was only then that I thought--

'Maybe he's a drug addict.'
'Maybe he's insane.'
'Maybe Kyra would want to interview him for her next exhibit.'

But it turns out he's just lovely

Ever since I got him home
He's been making me dinner

Apparently he used to be a souz chef
And then had a run-in with the bottle

But he's off it now
He got sober when he couldn't afford
To buy alcohol anymore

Imagine not being able to afford your own addictions, Larissa
The poor thing

ANYWAY

He's been keeping the guest room immaculate
He even built me bookshelves for my library
And his almond torte--I could marry him every time I take a bite

Granted, he's not the most intelligent man
And, as is expected, he steals things
Mostly my Knot's Landing DVD's

I can understand that
I mean Season Three is the closest thing to cocaine
That television has ever produced

All in all,
I think he's going to be very happy here

I'm even thinking of going back to New York
And picking up another homeless person
Maybe a girl this time

She can have Kyra's room

After all
It's not like anybody else is using it

You're Coming Home With Me

-- I was reading the daily blogs today and a girl was quoted as saying that the sexiest thing she thinks a man can do is look you dead in the eyes and say "You're coming home with me." I think he'd have to say a little more to err on the opposite side of creepy, and so I thought I'd give expanding it a try without taking away from the overall bang of the title. --

"You're Coming Home With Me"

You can laugh
At all the unfunny jokes
Told by unfunny men
Standing around in clothes that fit fine
But remind you of your dad

You can let them think they're bad boys
When really they bore you
Take their numbers so you can ignore their calls
Fall for their best friends
Who already have girlfriends
And make friends with the girlfriends
Hoping to end your infatuations

Standing at your station
Next to the bar
Wondering how far you'd go
With a show-up who'd blow-up
Your pre-conceived notions
While lotioning down your defense mechanisms
Creating a schism between every asshole
And troll in this place
And you
And him
And he'd say--

You're coming home with me

You can dance
Surrounded by all your friends
And bend around to scan the man
Who turns out to be not so hot

You can wall yourself up
Have a ball acting
Like you're having a ball

Call out your friends' names
When they pair up and head out
To play mindgames with famous losers
Who will still win in the bullshit olympics
Cause the fools made the rules
And your friends like to play
But I'm the only guy
Who's had the balls to say

You're coming home with me

I don't particularly care
Who you think I am
And what you think I want
Or what I think you need
Or what everyone's thinking
When you dance with me

I won't particularly mind
Finding you in my bed
Tomorrow morning

I don't know who you are
I don't know if you're
Who I want

Or who you want me to be

All I know is
You're coming home with me

Everything He Gave Me to Love

-- I always think that before any one of these monologues, there's a question. The question before this one would be--"How do you know if you really loved him?" --

"Everything He Gave Me to Love"

I know I loved him
Because I watched him deteriorate
And I loved the things on him
That were eroding
As they were disappearing
In front of my eyes

As he was becoming less and less human
I loved him deeper and harder
And I didn't have to force it

That's how I know

I loved everything he gave me to love
I loved every scrap, every trace
Every bit and piece he threw me
I took and I loved
With everything I had

And it wasn't hard
And I didn't have to force it
And yet I know there was more
There was more that I didn't get

So you want to know
If I could have loved those things
Those things he didn't give me?

You want to know
If I could have loved
The things he was hiding?

The words he didn't say?
The secrets and the deceptions
And the bullshit
And the fraud?

You want to know
If I could have known about that
And still loved him?

Don't ask me that

Not because I care
That you have no right to ask it
But because there's no point
Because there's no answer

Don't bother asking someone a question
There's no answer to

Because the truth is

I loved the mood swings
I loved the tantrums
I loved the violent outbursts
I loved the stone silence
I loved the irresponsibility
I loved the nonsense

I loved the tests he gave me to see if I could stand them
I loved the affairs he had because they made him come home happy
I loved the particles of the food that he spilled on his ties

And when the sickness came
I loved that too
I tried to love the sick
Right out of him

I loved everything
Every last inch of him
I loved

I loved everything he gave me
And I had love left over if he'd given me more
But he didn't

And even with all that success
At loving this unloveable man
I can't tell you
If I could have loved
The things he didn't give me

I don't know
I really don't know

Maybe he didn't either
Maybe that's why everything he gave me
Was all I ever got

To Whomever Might Steal This Car

To Whomever Might Steal This Car,

Greetings to you, lucky car-stealer. You have really stolen a jackpot. A veritable leprechaun's pot of chop shop parts and fond memories.

I can't tell you how many times I've cursed this car. I can't repeat most of the things I've said to it at the top of my lungs with the windows rolled up. The places I've threatened to impound it. Like any relationship, my car and I have experienced our ups and downs.

I got this car when I was in college. At the time, like any deceptive participant in an unhealthy partnership, the car put its best foot forward. It ran smoothly. It coasted along on the road in such a way that I felt like listening to the Beach Boys and dating a girl named Sandy. It had under 100,000 miles and it had been newly inspected.

It was destined to be my car.

Those first few weeks--the honeymoon period--were sheer bliss. The interior was leather. I always wanted car with that great, leather smell to it. Sure, it wasn't great on gas. Sure, the turn signal fuse blew after a few days and I had to signal with my hand like a twelve-year-old on a bike. Sure, the brakes were altogether perfect. All that aside, I had a great car.

Then the engine went.

I know, it doesn't make for a good story. The engine going in the first act is a little anti-climactic. After all, the engine is the heart of the car. If you kill the engine that soon in, who cares about what happens after that, right?

Well that was my life with my car. A play that ended far too early. And I was the unfortunate audience, who was made to sit in the empty theater and cry in a supermarket parking lot counting how long it would be before I actually had the damn thing paid off.

I can still hear my mother saying--"Why get a warranty? They're just trying to rob you!"

I never let her forget saying that. I bring it up every holiday (especially Mother's Day), every birthday--mine and hers, and every time she tries to harp on me about something.

"You know Mom I would have loved to have gotten you a card for you and Dad's anniversary, but I'm still paying off THAT ENGINE because I didn't get a WARRANTY."

This car has really brought me and Mom much closer together.

What could I do? I replaced the engine. I thought, Well, that'll be it at least. The engine going is the worst thing that can happen and now it's happened.

Oh, but I was wrong. Oh sure, the engine going was the worst thing that could happen ALL AT ONCE. But life is just full of little obstacles that add up until you find yourself taking a baseball bat to your own driver's side window.

First the not-so-perfect brakes became not-even-barely-functioning brakes. They had to be replaced.

After that, summer rolled around, and a funny stench starting coming from beneath the leather interior. That would have been bearable, if I hadn't kept sticking to the leather interior whenever I wore shorts. This meant that my legs now smelled like whatever was rotting away underneath my seat. I didn't dare look to see what it was--I'm not that brave.

Then the other turn signal went--no way to signal out the window on the right side, is there? Not unless you have passengers with generous spirits and good hearts. Oh! There's Mom again.

"Can I put my hand back in now? This is humiliating."
"WARRANTY, MOTHER! WARRANTY!"

Then the side mirror fell off. Then the glue melted that was holding up the rearview mirror. At one point, I was driving around with no mirrors at all, which is a little bit like being my last girlfriend--myopic and destined to crash into something.

By the time the trunk popped open and wouldn't close, I'd had it. I'd been driving around while people beeped at me and I didn't know why. I couldn't tell the trunk was open because I still hadn't put the rearview mirror back on yet.

I pulled over. I tried calming myself down. I tried deep breathing. I decided to listen to some music. That was when the radio broke and all it would play was 88.4--All Heavy Metal, All the Time.

That was when the baseball bat--the only object that didn't fly out of the trunk onto I-95--came out, and hit the window.

That was when I got out of the car, started walking, and didn't look back.

But before I did all that, I wrote this little letter. A courtesy if you will.

By the time you read this, I will hopefully have made my way back to civilization. God willing, I will not have been run over by a wayward convertible or arrested by a state trooper for being a highway vagrant with a baseball bat.

Either option will still be preferable to staying with this four-wheeled monster that has tried to destroy my sanity many, many times--and to be honest, may have succeeded today. You can't really call yourself sane when you spit on your own tires and key the word 'Idiot' into your door.

So, my dear felon, I'm leaving this car to you. I have theft insurance, so don't worry, you won't be doing me any harm by taking it. In fact, you'll be doing me a favor. It's sort of like a bad penny--if a bad penny cost you eight thousand dollars.

I hope you enjoy the car. I can't say it's been all bad. It's gotten me to many wonderful places and it's allowed me to offer many lovely people rides who otherwise would have been stranded. I've become good friends with those people, and I have my car to thank for that.

It was also the first thing I ever owned that was really mine. I guess that's why I can't be that mad at it, even now. You can't really hate your first love, because if nothing else, it taught you something.

You know what this car taught me?

Always get the goddammed warranty.

Sincerely,
Previous Owner

Take the Mess Somewhere Else

Every time it happens
You look at me
And say--

'A mess just means it worked'

Well I got news for you

It ain't working
It ain't doing nothin'
But breakin' down
And breakin'
And makin' more shit
For me to clean up

Welcome to the news
I'm your new anchor
The news anchor
And I got a flash

You're takin' this mess
Somewhere else

Cause I'm tired of livin' with it
Trying to figure out what closets to shove it in
Trying to figure out what rug to sweep it under
Trying to figure out what I'm doing
And why I've been doing it for so long

You act like everything
Is this or that

'Some people don't talk
That's how some people handle things.'

As if it's personality types
It's not
It's problems
It's damage
It's issues
It's wrong

Just because it's how you are
Doesn't make it right

I'm out of places to hide
The stuff pouring out of the walls
Over the floorboards
Down from the ceiling

I've filled every box I have
I've got overflow
Flowing out of everywhere

And I can't take it
Which means you have to

You have to pick it all up
And cart it all out
And I don't care to where

But if you can do that
Maybe you can come back
I hope you can
But I'm not holding my breath either

It's your choice to leave
But this shit is leaving
Either way

So take it out
Take it all out

Take your mess
Somewhere else

Nine Photos from August

I. The Old Man

He's staring at me, Derek
Don't tell me he's not
I know when I'm being stared at

What does he want?
Give him some money
Give him a nickel, for godsakes

Is he hungry?
Give him your M&M's
Dear Lord, why did we come here?

II. Leave It on the Rocks

I want to dip my toes into it
I want to see how cold it is
I want to test the waters

I don't care if it's dangerous
It's just water
How dangerous can water be?

Is it really water or just air?
Is it just the mist coming off the water?
I can't tell the difference anymore

III. The Journal

I'm writing everything down
Every seemingly meaningless thing
Is going right in this little book

Aren't the flowers on the front pretty?
They're meant to be inviting
Saying--Come on in and write!

Alexa gave it to me
It was my birthday present
Did she get you anything?

IV. The Opera Singer

Why is she crying?
Is she sad because her lover died?
Wait, was that her lover?

Well I certainly hope she wasn't kissing her brother like that
What did he die of?
It looked like food poisoning to me

Derek, you need to take culture in
Not just stand on the sidelines and look at it

Is she dying now or just confused?

V. The Colored Horizon

I went swimming
And I almost didn't come back
Not because I'm suicidal
But because I went blank

I was in the water
And I simply went to a place
Where I knew nothing and was no one
And it was wonderful
I woke up on the horizon

I'm either crazy or happy

VI. The Kitten

Isn't he cute, Derek?
He's meant to cheer me up
Alexa gave him to me
But didn't give me cat food
Bitch

Sorry, I know
She's our daughter

But do you know what she named him?
'Good Luck'

VII. By the Pool

I swore I'd never visit you, Alexa
But you never said there was a pool
I didn't know there were so many pools in L.A.
Pools, pools everywhere

We don't have pools in Maine
We don't have much of anything
And all the water is so murky
I prefer your pools

So...you're getting married?

VIII. My Father's Car

I never understood the point of a car
You couldn't drive
I never understood my father
Keeping this car

If I even looked at it
He'd swear at me
And swat me away like a fly

And now he's gone...

And I know how I'm paying for Alexa's wedding

IX. A Wedding on the Beach

I almost yelled shark, Derek
But I like Brian
So I kept my mouth shut

A tragic mistake that will ruin two lives
Still shouldn't ruin a perfectly sunny day
And besides, we were in the water

How beautiful to get married in the water

Nobody's been able to find the bouquet

I'm almost convinced it stuck to the horizon

Play Jackie Wilson

Put on Jackie Wilson
I want to dance with the kids
I want to dance around the kitchen table
And dance around the pasta
And dance around the salad
And act like an idiot

I want to push my hands up
Right up against the ceiling
So damn low
The plaster falls on your head

I want to use the bowls
For hats and drums
I want to shake the toaster
Like in Ghostbusters 2

I want to be The Big Chill
I want to be the big deal
I want to take it into the living room
And then out onto the streets

I want to hug my woman
I want to kiss her
And make her laugh
Like she laughed
The day she realized
She was marrying a fool

I want to dance with my kid
And see if I can get her
To stop calling me old
And start calling me crazy

I want to dance with my mother-in-law
See if I can make her any sorrier
Her daughter married such a putz

I want to dance around
To 'Higher and Higher'
And see if we can go past the ceiling

I want to see if we can go up
And look down
And wonder who all those crazy people are
Down in the kitchen

A Train in Bangladesh

I'm sitting on a train in Bangladesh
Waiting for the man next to me
To admit that we're lost

And we must be lost
Because we're here
On a train in a country
I couldn't even find on a map

I'd know the general idea
But when push came to shove
I'd be lost

Much like I am now

How many times
How many times can you think the same thing
Read the same pages
Of the same book
You've been trying to finish
For the past two weeks

I keep looking over at him
Wondering when he's going to speak
He hasn't spoken for three days
So I suppose I shouldn't hold my breath
But nevertheless I look over
Again and again
And wonder where we're heading

I sigh audibly
I cough several times
If I could work up a sneeze
I would

Where are we going?
Why are we here?
What is the point of all this?

We were supposed to be going on an adventure
Well, this certainly is an adventure
If by 'adventure' you mean
Lost, broke, and terrified

I'd say I want to go home
But the problems at home
Are actually quite similar
To the problems we face
Being on this train

We don't talk
Not nearly enough anyway
We don't listen
When we do talk
And I'm guilty
As well as innocent
Where that's concerned

More than anything else
We're bored
We're bored with each other
And I'm not sure how to fix that

So I sit back and read the page
Read the same page
Again and again

Looking for something
I must have missed before

This book is supposed to be brilliant
It got great reviews
But I don't like it

Everyone tells me I'm supposed to like it
Everyone says so
But I don't
But rather than just say I don't
And toss it out the window
Into the fields of Bangladesh
Or give it to the little boy two cars over
Who told me when I boarded
That he's trying to learn English
I keep reading and keep reading
And keep reading

Thinking it must be me
Thinking I must be wrong
For not being happy with it

People told me Bangladesh
Was just what we needed
A complete change
A change of pace and place
A new surrounding

But it seems to me
That in order for a place
To change your life
You'd have to have never been anywhere
Aside from where you are

I've been to France
I've been to Japan
I even went to Uganda once
Back when I was young
And would go anywhere

So it's not that I hate traveling
It's just that it doesn't alter me anymore
It doesn't shake my soul
The way it used to

My friend Linda went to a conference last year
In Nebraska, or Iowa, somewhere like that
And she came back saying
She had been changed

She was convinced it was Nebraska or Iowa
Or wherever it was that she went
But I knew what it really was

She'd just never been anywhere before
So going anywhere would have been life-changing
She might as well have walked down the street
And gone to the post office

But I still agreed to go
When the man sitting next to me
Suggested Bangladesh

It's not his fault

Who knew they'd lose our reservations?
Who knew we'd be robbed--not once, but several times?
Who knew we'd hop a train and hope for the best?
Who could know any of that?

We're going to ride on, I suppose
What else can you do?
But just ride on

Although I'll admit
I'm a little nervous
About that tunnel up there

Once we're in it
I won't be able to read
Or to see the man sitting next to me
Or even the countryside of Bangladesh

And once we're in
Who knows if we're ever coming out?

Reflection

You love the eyes that go wide
Whenever you speak
You love the questions he doesn't ask
Because you assume
He already knows
He already knows you
So well, doesn't he?

You love how soft he talks
And how he walks into a room
With all eyes on him
You love that he goes to the gym
More than you do
You love that he doesn't say much
But his touch feels so good

You love projecting on him
All the things you need him to be
That you didn't see in me
Because I'm not as quiet
Not quite as demure
And I'm sure that I wasn't the pillar
That he is
To lean on

I know what you love
When you look at him
You love your reflection
The projection of yourself
Onto this guy

Who never asks questions
And you never ask why
Why you spend all your time
Wondering who he reminds you of
How nice it must be
To fall in love
With yourself

Rolling the Ball

Stephanie

Can you just do the world a favor
And shut the fuck up
For five fucking seconds
So we can all roll
The goddammed ball

This is supposed to be
A team-building exercise
Not a Stephanie exercise
Not a 'Make Sure Stephanie is Cared for and Catered To' exercise
Not a 'The World Revolves Around Stephanie' exercise
A team-building exercise

T-E-A-M

That stands for--

Take Egos...uh...Away...Ma'am!

God, this fucking ball is heavy
Who the fuck makes these balls?
Do they make them explicitly for this bullshit?
For these fucked up cocksucker conventions
Where we all have to hug and love each other
And talk about how we're going to increase productivity?

You know how we could increase productivity?
If we were sitting at our desks
Instead of rolling a stupid ball
Up a stupid hill
In New fucking Jersey

Couldn't they at least have sent us to Vegas?
BroCorp sent their employees to Vegas
DemiCo sent theirs to Disney World
And where do we get to go?

To New Jersey
And not even Atlantic City
We're an hour away from Atlantic City
And they didn't even get us rental cars
Those motherfuckers

I say we just back off
I say we just stop
Stop and let the fucking ball
Roll back down the hill
Onto those assholes with the nametags
And the fake fucking teeth
Smiling at us like we're puppies
Who just learned to piss on the newspaper

That would be teamwork, wouldn't it?
We'd all be deciding to let the ball go
That's a team decision, isn't it?

Let's do it
Let's let the ball go!

Stephanie, stop crying
Why are you crying?
This is why we all hate you
Because you always CRY!

That's it
I'm letting go
I'm letting go of the ball
And if you all want to keep pushing
You can go right ahead

I'll be at the bottom of the hill
Knocking out some fake fucking teeth
If you're really on my team
You guys will join me

Otherwise
Good luck with the fucking ball

Get Your Kids Drunk

Annette, I'm telling you
I'm telling you
You have to do it
You have GOT to do it

It's fantastic

You have got to get your kids drunk

I got Mackey drunk last weekend
It was so much fun!
We had a blast

MACKEY!

Didn't we have a blast last weekend?
You and your mother?
Drunk as the evening sun
Weren't we?

Oh don't give me that tone, Annette
It was wonderful
We shared things
Things he'd never share with his mother
If he weren't blitzed out of his mind

So what?
We were home
It wasn't like he had to drive an 18-wheeler that night to Iowa!

Oh what?
Are you going call the police on me, Annette?
Your own sister?

Well shut up then
I'm trying to enlighten you

You don't half the things you don't know
Until you've gotten shitfaced with your kids
The things they tell you
Oh my God!

Sara has two tattoos I never even knew about!

She showed them to me!

It was hysterical
Because one of them
Was spelled incorrectly

Oh, I'm her mother

I'M HER MOTHER, ANNETTE!

I've seen those spots before
It's no big shock

Your problem is you're too strict

That's why your kids are going to grow up
To be sexually regressive
They're going to end up being into womb play

Have you heard of that?
Mackey told me all about it
His last girlfriend was into it

It's where two people curl up in a blanket together
And make love until one of them is born onto the floor

What a sicko that girl is

I should have known
Never to let her near my little guy
Especially considering how bad he is
At holding his liquor

OH SHUT UP, ANNETTE!

You're too damn sensitive
You need to have some wine
Do you have any wine there?

You know what?

I'll bring some over

We'll get a little woo-hoo
Then we'll have a nice talk, you and me
Then when your kids come home
You give them some too
And you'll be amazed

You'll be amazed, Annette

At all the things
You thought you didn't want to know

Stand in the Rain with Me

Where you going?

Don't you like it?
Don't you like the rain?
Don't you like getting fresh again
Being friends with nature
Being one with open skies
Lying about how you lost your dryness
And your shyness with a boy
Standing in the rain?

Come on, boy
Stand in the rain with me

Unbutton your shirt
And let the drops hit your chest
The best way to clear up
Everything rattling around inside you
Is to ride it out on a flooded street
Beating the heat with a dancing man
Who's a fan of soaking in
The cloud's parade

There might be a delay
So in the meantime
Stand in the rain with me

See how I look
Under watery conditions
Don't make me petition you
To do what you wanna do

Don't make me beckon
For a second, boy, come on
Come stand in the rain with me

And if it washes us away
I'll stay right next to you
Holding onto you
Like the life-saver you are

If the river sweeps us
Past abandoned homes and cars
We'll have a head start
On getting where we're going
Cause as I'm sure you know

All water leads
To dryer land

And that's where I wanna stand
With you when all the rain is through

But until then
Stand in the rain with me

My Big 80's Life

I woke up next to Anthony Michael Hall
Thinking, oh great
Him again

It's way more fun when I wake up next to Rob Lowe
Or like, Billy Idol
Don't judge
Billy was hot

I get up and go downstairs
Where my annoying little brother
Or sister
Is waiting for me

'My token work-a-holic parents
Are eating breakfast
And make some quip
About going to school
And finally passing 'that test'

I've locked Ally Sheedy in the closet
And I throw her a pancake
So that she doesn't starve
But she keeps making that squee noise
And trying to eat her own dandruff
And it's super unsettling

I drive my Gremlin to school
Where Emilio E asks why I wasn't at football practice
Don't I know that we 'The Big Game' coming up?

I tell him that if he wants to keep getting blowjobs
Without Demi Moore finding out
Then he'll shut up about the fucking game

He acquiesces

I head to class but then decide to ditch
Because I want to have wild adventures
In the middle of token city that I live in
Where crazy things happen on a Monday afternoon

On the way out of the school
I kidnap the Asian kid from Sixteen Candles
And John Cusack at gunpoint
Cause, you know, I need buddies

I would take Alan Ruck
But he aged poorly
So there goes that

My two amigos and I listen to Men at Work
As we plow through the city in Gizmo
(Which is what I call my Gremlin)
And when we run over Molly Ringwald
I tell them to keep going and not look back

The bitch never returns my phone calls anyway

It's then that I realized
I look fucking stupid in shoulder pads
So I make Long Duck Whatever wear them
While he drives
So John and I can make out in the back

I'm a whore sometimes
And I know this
Because my hair is really feathered

Andrew McCarthy keeps calling me
But I won't answer
Because he fucks mannequins
Which is fucking creepy

Plus my car phone is huge
And it hurts my arm
To have to lift it

I know it's Andrew McCarthy calling
Because he's so rich he can miss school
And nobody cares

Molly was probably missing school
Because she's a streetwalker now
Who wants an Oscar real bad

Me and the boys go buy tuxes
Because tonight is the prom
Because every fucking night is the prom
And when we show up there
John says hi to his sister
With the braces
Who I think has syphilis

I dance a lot and get trashed
But not before I fuck Judd Nelson in the bathroom
While the hot chick from Weird Science tapes it

I feel bad for Weird Science
It's super under appreciated

I decide to blow off the rest of the dance
Because Jon Cryer is all over me
And it's wicked fucking annoying

Like, I love Duckie
But I'm not taking Big Red's sloppy seconds
You know what I mean?

Eric Stoltz apparently thinks he has a chance with me
Which is like, so fucking insane
'Go fuck that lesbo from Fried Green Tomatoes'
Is what I wanna say to him
But I don't, cause who cares

As I leave, I heard OMD in the background
Telling me if I leave
They won't cry

Good, don't cry
I'd like to fuck them with a chainsaw
But a real one

I get into the Gremlin and head home
I have to feed Ally Sheedy before ten
Or she gets cranky

I climb through my own window
Which makes no fucking sense
But whatever, you know?

Who's going to judge me?
Maybe John Hughes
But that's it

We Look Better in the Dark

We live in rooms
With slanted walls
Where the halls are lined
With photos of autographs
Intricate signatures
Signed by people
We never actually met

Ethan sits near his humidifier
Leafing through his neckties
Deciding which one
He'd like to hang by
And who he should leave
His sheet music to

How many guitars does one man need?
How many windows does any room need?
How many girls have died in this room
While their souls floated up
And their minds expanded
And they were handed their walking papers
Just as the sun finally made its way up
To the rooftop apartment

Don't you know us?
Maybe not
We look better in the dark

Sky Rocket has that piercing
That the tribal boys have
The Slavs pioneered the music scene
In downtown repo shops
Dropping their socks
On the floors near the whores
Who couldn't be bothered
To learn their lyrics

The hair color--a mistake
But maybe not
Maybe a happy accident
Maybe he was smoking pot
And green seemed like a good idea
On top of rusty orange

Anything's possible, right?

His tattoos don't say anything
They're just a series of letters
And numbers and signs
Mining the depths of drunkenness
On a wild Tuesday night
When he fights with the tenders
Over rendering him 'done'

Do you know him?
You might not
He looks better in the dark

Was this right before we fucked?
Tucked ourselves in sleeping bags
Dressed in rags from the Armory
Armpits smelling like wild oats
Boating in the morning
Because we knew a guy
Who knew a guy

Why would we compromise ourselves
On a video camera aimed
At naming us something
We don't want to be named?

We won't take your drinks
We won't take your names
We'll take the train to Puttle
And shuttle ourselves around
Down inside our magic town
Of sex and crypts
Of ballgowns and gypsies

We'll get tipsy on your dollar
But we still won't be your friend
We'll bend to your will
And still ditch you in the park

We are the sexy pretty people
But we're always in the dark

You Can't Get Me Out

You can sing up to my window
Blasting your past toward my panes
Gaining access to my front hall
By having a ball with my mother
Like no other boy who's tried the same tactics
And ecstatically failed
But you'll bail like they bailed
When your kidding fails
To nail me down

You can get to mom
But you can't get me out

You can learn to dance
And by chance I may see you on the floor
Pouring elegance into your moves
But don't think you'll prove much
By touching the spots on me
You see as being
Softer than the rest
The best you can do
Is still less that impressive
And it gets old fast too

You can get me to dance
But you can't get me out

You can make me dinner every night
And see if I'll bite on the opportunity
Or if it's too soon for me
To get over the last asshole
That took his toll and took off
But I'll just scoff and keep eating
While you're beating your head
Against the table rather than my headboard
Wondering if I'm bored with you
Or simply overdue
For an emotional awakening

You can shake and bake me
But you can't get me out

You can't get me out
Of my mind and find me
Somewhere other than
My own head

You can't get me lost
Costing me bridge fare
Caring enough to dare
To jump off

Caring enough for you
Enough for myself
Enough for anyone
Or any fun
You may be supplying

I'd be lying if I said it was you
It's not you
It's not me
It's being

It's being here
I hate being here
And if you want to know
The secret to my heart
It lies in the distance
Not dancing
Or cooking
Or my family way

Showing me you'd stay
Is as good as driving me away
The common link
That you don't think of
Is that every guy
Who's put miles between us
Usually wins my undying love
Without even trying

And putting anything
Between you and me
Is something I see you can't do
It's sweet
I don't blame you
But I can't love you either

I don't need to love you
I just need to get out
And you?

You don't get me
You can't get to me
You won't get over me

And you can't get me out

The Villain's Book Club

Okay everyone
Settle down

It's time to pick our selection
For next month's meeting

Now, I don't want to make you all feel like
You have to select my book--

'Kill the Babies First: Memoir of a Super Villain'

But I can't but mention
That it was voted 'Best Book of the Year'
By Haters Magazine

Can I see hands?

Oooooookay

So what do YOU all want to read?

Uh huh
Uh huh
Uh huh

Well, first off
If I have to read Jodi Picoult
I'll destroy Antarctica
I'm just putting that out there

Remember when we read 'Change of Heart'
And I destroyed Southern India?
I'll do it again
I don't care how many of you cried
At 'My Sister's Keeper'
We're not--

Wait a minute

If you've seen 'My Sister's Keeper'
Then why would you want to read the book?
That's like murdering your henchmen
And THEN finding out he's been dating your ex-girlfriend

It is like that, isn't it?
I have trouble with analogies sometimes

Moving on

What other suggestions do you have?

Uh huh
Uh huh
Uh huh

Well, let me just say
I find Updike to be a bit pretentious
And that book 'Terrorist?'
That man knew NOTHING about being a 'Terrorist'

I mean, did he even try to blow anything up
Before he wrote that book?
That was just shoddy research
In my opinion

That would be like me writing a book called--

'Kill the Babies First: Memoir of a Super Villain'

--And not killing any babies
--Or having any memories
Of which to write a memoir with

Huh?

Well, I didn't say what kind of babies they were
So what if they were baby elephants?
Do you know how cute baby elephants are?
Trust me, it's much harder to kill baby elephants
Than regular babies
It takes a real sicko
Believe me

Anyway

I'd prefer it if we don't read Updike

Ooohh!

How about Thomas Pynchon?
I love writers
Who write in such a way
That I have absolutely no idea
What the hell is going on
At any point

That way
If I have to put the book down
To torture a double agent
Or buy new batteries for my Death Laser
I can just pick the book up
And start anywhere
And I don't even need a book mark!

Sooooo
Pynchon?

No?
Not liking that?
Not interested?

Okey doke, then

Well, any more suggestions?

Uh huh
Uh huh
Uh huh

Machiavelli, huh?

Well I do love the classics

Hmm...

Let me swivel on this

. . . . .

Okay, fine
But next month
We're reading 'The Secret Life of Bees'
And I don't want to hear anything
About it being sentimental
Because every now and then
I need a good cry

Okay?

Meeting adjourned!

Happy Reading

I Will Break This Man

I will stand out in the rain
I will be the cliche
I will be the wet, sweaty cliche
Drenched in the trenches
Waiting for him
To look down and see me
Gleefully realizing
How wet I'm willing to get
To get to him
And who cares
If I don't get a tan

I'm telling you
I will break this man

I will make him picnics
Try all my tricks out
Work out all my issues
Go through tissue boxes
Like cotton candy
Till I'm dandy and dry
Waiting for this guy to grant me
Access to his messes
And all the things
He thinks I won't understand

Believe me
I will break this man

He doesn't love me now
But he will love me
Because what is love
If not perspective
The elected thoughts
That run through our minds
Until we find ourselves saying
We're straying from our beliefs
And feeling relief that we're not
As hot on them
As we thought we were

He doesn't love me now
But what does that have to do
With me anyhow?

If he can love all the wrong people
Why not have him
Love someone right?

Someone who stays out all night
On his doorstep
And schlepping through supermarket aisles
To find and file
All the things needed
To create his favorite meal

If he can stick with guys
Whose lies stick to him
Like spaghetti to a wall
Why not love the guy who's all about
Not heading out when he reveals
Too much

Oh, and I know
I know, I know
He's got clothes on top of clothes
To hide the emperor underneath
But beneath all that shit
There's a fitted mold for me
And maybe I'm just old enough now
To see when I'm needed
And maybe when he is
He'll believe it too

I can't say I know exactly
What I plan to do
Or that I even have a plan
All I know is
He's been broke before
And put back together wrong
By the wrong men
Who sent him
In the wrong direction
And now his protection
Is his attraction preferences
Well I'm going to get through
All those defenses
And when I'm done with him
He'll be able to put himself
Back together right

I don't mind taking the time
I can stand here all night
In the rain
In the snow
In the sleet
In the heat
In the wide-open
Wide-eyed
Dyed hair from rain weather

I'll stand here
Until he's down here
The two of us
Together

Or until I'm up there
His face resting
Under my hand

I will start from scratch
And make things right
And I will break this man

They're Not Us

I think they have us confused
With someone they used to know
Going around saying
That we're no better than them
When everybody knows
The mess on their hands
Is so depressing even their shrink
Thinks he should let them go

Now they found out a tidbit
And they're using it
To say we're no more legit
Than they are
And to see how far they can go
They're showing our secrets
To any people who will listen

But they're not us
But they don't know
But they're just thinking
Our sins are the same
And how game of them
Instead of trying to lift
They've decided to pull
See who they can fool
Cause that's all they can do

No two secrets are alike
And he's not the man I am
They think they understand
Because it looks the same
Between the paper and the sand
But I'll be damned if I let them say
That all of us are the same

Because they're not like us
Because believe me
They're not us

Anne, Watch Megan

Anne watches Megan
That's how it works
That's the deal
That's the two girls
In a nutshell

Anne watches Megan

When Megan showed up
August was nearly over
And Anne couldn't see the point
In her coming for a vacation
So close to school starting

When September came
And Megan was still there
Anne asked her mother
When her cousin would be leaving

'Well honey,' said Marg, 'She's not.'

That was when Anne heard the story
Well, most of the story
As much as Marg felt her daughter could hear
Without being an irresponsible parent
Or taking the chance
That Anne would repeat the story
In school to her friends
To show off

Anne liked to do that
It made her feel like an adult
To know adult things
And reveal them in an adult manner
While playing hopscotch
During recess

Megan had been having a 'hard time'
That was what Marg called it
Because that's what her brother, Don, called it

'A hard time, Marg. Kat's at the end of her rope.'

Megan was 'a handful'
She was 'excitable'
She might be 'slow'
And so she'd come for 'a stay'
Based on the fact
That Marg had much more patience
Than her brother's wife

'Aunt Katherine has had a hard time with Megan,' Marg said.
'Because she's a fruit loop,' asked Anne, remembering something she overheard
Her mother saying to her father
The last time Uncle Donald and Aunt Katherine came to visit

'Yes, honey,' said Marg, not correcting her daughter
But giving her the look that said--

'I'll allow it, but don't push it.'

Maybe it was her mother's story
The insinuation that Megan needed caring for
That inspired Anne's desire
For maturity

On the first day of school
Anne acted as if Megan
Was her personal charge
Rather than just an unfamiliar relative

'Megan, sit next to me.'
'Megan, calm down.'
'Megan, get your math book out.'
'Megan, stop...please.'

After a week, the teacher sent a note home

'I'm so proud of Anne, and the effort she's put into making her cousin feel welcome.'

Marg was unsettled, but not totally surprised
Anne had always wanted a younger sibling
And Marg had always suspected that the girl
Had over-developed maternal instincts for her age

All her dolls were always clothed
Her room was always spotless
And when she had tea parties
She always went around asking her stuffed animals
If they'd had enough to eat
Because they all looked 'so skinny'

If Marg was honest with herself
She would have admitted
That Anne was, in fact, more maternal
Than even herself

But Marg was not all that honest
So instead of worrying about Anne
And where she got these instincts from
She simply bought her daughter a new dress
For being so good to Megan

As the year progressed
Anne became even more assertive
And her caretaking of Megan
Became so routine
Even her classmates
Who initially made fun of her for it
Grew to simply see it as normal

Unfortunately, even with Anne's help
Megan seemed to flounder
At everything she attempted

Her grades were terrible
And the only reason she passed
If you really want to know
Is because her teacher feared what would happen
If she separated Megan from her cousin

She also had a sneaking suspicion
That any work Megan had done
That was of any quality
Was probably done by Anne

By the time summer came around again
Anne had stopped referring to Megan
As 'my cousin who's staying with us'
And had started calling her--

'My Meg.'

When Don and Kat came to visit their daughter
Having only seen her at Christmas
When they sent for her
And her birthday in April
When they stopped by the house
On their way to Florida
Anne was beside herself
At the thought that they would take Megan home with them

'It's not fair,' she told Marg in the kitchen
Sitting on the counter and licking chocolate
From the mixing bowl Marg had been using
To make coconut brownies

'They waltz out of her life and then waltz back in,' said Anne
She had recently discovered this use
For the word 'waltz'
And loved it

'I agree with you, honey,' said Marg
Not seeing why she should pretend
What her daughter was saying wasn't true
And happy that her little girl
Was smart enough to recognize
What louses she had for an aunt and uncle

That was when they heard the scream
From outside

Anne hopped off the counter
And went after Marg
Who was already halfway to the screen door
Having never heard Megan scream like that before
And hoping nothing had happened to her
Before her parents could get there
Leaving her injured
And Don and Kat thinking
That Marg couldn't care for a child

What she and Anne found outside
Was Megan on the porch
Kicking at Donald
Who must have arrived early
And Kat sitting on the steps
Crying into her hands

Don had cuts all over his arms
Where Megan had apparently scratched him
And the girl was in quite a state
And screaming--

'ANNE! ANNE! ANNE!'

Marg shoved her brother aside
And subsequently shoved Anne
Right into Megan's outstretched arms
Too terrified to go near the girl herself

Marg saw that her brother was bleeding
And that her sister-in-law, as usual
Was completely useless
And she ushered them both into the house
Turning to Anne and her niece
And issuing the final nail in the coffin

'Anne, watch Megan'

. . . . .

Whenever they get lunch in the city
Anne always picks the restaurants
She makes sure to take into consideration
Megan's dietary restrictions
As well as the proximity to Megan's apartment
So that she doesn't have to walk too far

She makes sure they never eat at night
Because Anne doesn't like the idea
Of Megan out and about walking at night
There was a time when she almost saw Megan get mugged
But she chased off the young man
Who was walking behind her
And received a talking-to from her cousin

Never a thank you
Never, never, never

Megan showed up looking awful
But what could you expect
The poor girl needed to get married
There was no other way around it
And yet any man that wanted her
Would be immediately suspect to Anne
So what was the solution?

There wasn't one
There simply wasn't one

'I ordered for you.'
'I wish you wouldn't do that.'
'I wish you'd show up on time; then I wouldn't have to, honey.'
'I'm so sorry, Marg. Next time I'll get here an hour early like you do.'

Anne did not appreciate her
Bringing up Mother that way
Marg had been gone for two years
And it still gave her pangs
To think about

Anne had had to drag Megan
To Marg's bedside
When they knew the end was near
And then all she'd been able to do
Was blather on about something some poet said
About death and dying and fighting it

If not for the somberness of the occasion
It would have been unbearably awkward
And Anne had hustled Megan out of the room
After just a few short moments

An hour later, Marg was gone
And Anne couldn't help but wonder
If Megan had put her over the top

'You like fish, don't you?'
'I can't eat fish.'
'Of course you can.'
'I don't like it.'
'That's not the same thing as not being able to eat it.'
'Can't I get something else?'
'You can when you start being on time.'
'I wish you'd stop treating me like a child, Anne.'
'I don't treat you like a--stop biting your nails.'
'You see?'
'That was just me being funny, except I do think you should quit biting on them. It's--'
'I'm pregnant.'

Anne didn't find it funny
When she realized Megan wasn't joking
She found herself speechless

'You're what?'
'Pregnant. With child. I'm--'
'How?'
'You mean you don't know?'
'DON'T BE CUTE!'
'Don't raise your voice in public, Anne.'
'Who is he?'
'You've never met him.'
'You're damn right I haven't! Does he know?'
'He doesn't need to know. He's not the one having it.'
'So you ARE going to have it?'
'Anne, are you suggesting--?'
'I don't know what I'm suggesting, but I know you can't have a child! IMAGINE!'
'I have imagined it, and I don't see why I can't.'
'But what will you do with it?'
'I'll sell it to carnies, Anne!'

She stood up
Anne tried to backtrack
But it was like trying to get a grip
On marble

'Megan, please--'

It was no use

'Well,' said Megan, 'At least I know that if I really screw it up, I can always just hand it off to you to raise. You've always been so good at cleaning up other people's messes!'

And that was the end of lunch

. . . . .

Anne knew she couldn't have children
She didn't go to a doctor to know it
She just knew it
The way you know
You don't like tomatoes

She knew it about herself
And it was fine
It really was
It just was what it was

And besides, she had Megan
Megan was such a handful
Who could have time
For anything else?

. . . . .

She remembered that day on the porch
With Uncle Don inside getting bandaged up
And Aunt Kat still crying so loud
Anne's father had to finally slap her
Just to get her to calm down

'Leave it to my brother,' said Marg, 'Another man slaps his wife and he's grateful to him.'

Anne just sat there
Doing as she was told
Watching Megan

Every few seconds
Megan would try and break away
But Anne would hold her
And whisper that it was okay
That she was going to be okay

Anne wanted her mother
To come out of the house
She wanted Marg to come out
And see her holding Megan

Not because she wanted a compliment
Not because she wanted to see her mother be proud of her
Not because she wanted a new dress
But because she wanted to show her
More than anything
She wanted to show her mother

Here, she wanted to say, this is what I want
This is what I want from you

I want you to hold me
Even when I'm trying
To get you to stop
And I want you to say it's okay
When it clearly isn't
And I want you to watch me
Just sit and watch me
Until I'm all right

For her entire life
Right up until she was sitting in a restaurant
Staring at her napkin
Wondering what she'd just done
Anne had been watching herself

And because she'd always done such a good job at it
She supposed that she might as well watch someone else as well
And perhaps that was how Megan happened
Perhaps that was what this was all about

Except now, she had stopped being
The mother she wanted
And had become
The mother she'd received

. . . . .

She bought a bottle of wine
And the stuff you need
To make coconut brownies
Including a mixing bowl
Because she knew Megan wouldn't have one
And she walked to Megan's apartment

When Megan answered the door
She held up the bottle

For a second, Anne actually saw that flash
That quick smile Megan has
That appears and disappears
And leaves no traces

It must have looked funny
Anne the Prude
With a bottle of wine

'Anne, you must know I can't drink.'

Anne, without missing a beat
Answered back--

'Honey, this ain't for you.'

She held up the grocery bag

'The brownies are going to be for you. The wine is for me.'

Megan laughed and moved out of her way
As she steamrolled into Megan's tiny kitchen
Deciding there were still some things
That Anne would have to have domain over

'So,' Megan said, 'You going to let me help?'

Anne started removing items
From the brown paper bags
That seemed to tear much easier now
Than when she was younger

'Why don't you just watch,' she said, 'The best way to learn is to watch.'