Say That Won't Be Us

My mother got her honeymoon
In a motel on the side of some highway
In between some apple orchards
And the place where she was going to live

Ramshackle two-bedroom
That would inevitably house
Way more than her, my father, and one kid

Before I was ten
There were people sleeping in bathtubs
Pouring out of the windows
Of that ramshackle house

My mother never really left that hotel
Never really saw anything more
Than headlights on a highway
All heading someplace better
Than where she was going

Do me a favor
Say that won't be us

Say we won't wind up
Getting to go on vacation
Once a year
For a week
Just so we can come back
And dread the rest of the time
Until another getaway rolls around

Say we won't deposit ourselves
Into jobs we won't like
Into homes we feel claustrophobic in
Into bank accounts with both our names

Say I'm still going to see Rome
Say you're still going to see Tokyo
Say we're both going to take that trip to Egypt
No matter what happens

Here I am
Looking out this window
In a gorgeous hotel room
On the thirtieth floor

But it's not really much more
Than a motel room
Next to an apple orchard, is it?

It's not the elegance
Or the elaborate nature
That makes the difference

It's how you feel looking out the window

My mother looked out at headlights
I'm looking down at streetlights

It's about looking at the lights
And not feeling outside of them
But inside them
Right in them

Right there in that buzzing
In that constant hum
In that presence

My mother knew she had removed herself
From the world
When she looked out that window
Parting those cigarette-smelling curtains

You're in the bathroom shaving
Because you have a meeting tomorrow
But we're going on our honeymoon next month
Aren't we?

Not to Rome or Tokyo or Egypt
But to a weekend at the beach
That way we're not too far away
To get cell phone reception

We'll lead a wealthier life than my mother
That's true
But will it be richer?

. . . . .

When you come out of that bathroom
With a fresh face and a smile
I'm going to make you say
That we'll be different

I'm going to make you tell me
That we'll be the least married people
Of all the married couples we know

And that we'll be brilliant and interesting
And that if we have kids
They'll be brilliant and interesting too

I want you to say
We haven't removed ourselves
From that constant hum

And after you say it
We'll go to bed
And I'll begin that long journey

Of trying to believe
That everything you say
Is true