God Gives You the Day Off

You need to sleep

So I'm making it snow

I'm making it snow
Then rain, then snow
So that the roads will be so bad
Even your boss
Who fought you when you wanted
To take Christmas off

Will be stuck in his house
With his bitch of a wife

Oh yeah, he has a bitch of a wife
Why do you think he likes being at work so much?

So I made it snow
And I made you soup
And I'm having some random cable channel
Air "You've Got Mail" and "When Harry Met Sally"
Back to back, then back again

I'm having all your friends text you
To tell you how much they love you
But I'm instructing them
Not to tell you any of their problems
Or ask you for advice

They'll survive without you
For a day

I cleaned the apartment
Did the dishes
Took out the dress
Got rid of that thing in the fridge
That was growing legs

Now get some rest
Eat some soup
And call me when Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal
Are saying 'pepper' back and forth to each other

I love that

Oh, and last night
I shaved your ex-boyfriend's head

Your welcome

He Reminds Me

I forgot I was supposed to be a good person

That at one time
That was the plan
That was the path I was on

And then...

One day I woke up
And I was this

This

I guess I forgot the plan

And that's why I like him

He reminds me
Of who it was
I was supposed to be

Play Always Be My Baby

7th Grade was a good grade
It was the year we were all fighting
Over which couple
Would get 'Always Be My Baby'

Mike and Kerri wanted it
Because they had been dating the longest

Two weeks

And as such, they were the official school couple
The Luke and Laura of my junior high school

Little did we know that Mike and Kerri would defect
A few days later
When one of Mike's friends said Kerri looked like a giraffe
And after he beat him up
Mike agreed with him
And out with Kerri

That meant 'Always Be My Baby'
Was in play

I wanted it to be mine
Specifically belonging to me
And Stephanie Aranaho

I wanted us to be the two kids
In the Mariah Carey video

I wanted to sneak her out of a cabin
At some summer camp
For underprivileged pre-teens
Then take her to a lake
And swing on a tire swing
And adore each other

But before we could have the song
I'd have to convince Stephanie to love me

In the meantime, Zach Trailer
Or, Trailer Park, as we called him
Tried claiming the song
For himself and Patti Dooley
But that was a little like two Texan tourists
Trying to claim the Taj Mahal
On a visit to India

It was good for a laugh
But nobody took them seriously

Mariah could not go to just ANYONE
After all

A more legitimate claim to the song came
When Joe Ryan kissed Annie Blodano at lunch
And, like a young Arthur stepping to the stone,
All assumed they would be dating by third period
And take 'Always Be My Baby' as their inauguration march

As it turned out, however
Annie had no plans on dating someone in her own grade

She was a real woman, after all
She had gotten breasts in October
A good four months
Before all the other girls
And this meant she could and would
Only date 8th graders

That left the song wide open

Alas, it was not to be

Stephanie ended up being
Joey Ryan's consolation prize
Landing her the name
Sloppy Seconds Stephanie
Until she reached high school
And transferred out of town

It broke my heart
To think of her and Joe
Sitting in his room
With the door wide open
So his mother could walk by
And check on them

Staring at each other
Telling each other how cool
The other one was
Listening to 'Always Be My Baby'

But as it turned out
The song was old news to them
Instead, they claimed 'Lovefool'
By the Cardigans
Which isn't even really a relationship song
As much as it is a song of yearning

So I was free to keep 'Always Be My Baby'
In a little pocket in my soul
Just waiting for the day
When I could bestow it upon someone
Perhaps while laying with them in a hammock
Or pushing them on a tire swing

Every Man Who's Said Goodnight

I envy every man
Who's said goodnight

Who's gotten to stay around
And see you lightly fall
Into a careless sleep

I keep imagining
Eighteen poets
Outside your window

Surrounded by Cyranos
You drift off
Feeling protected
By verses and stanzas

I imagine serenades
Lasting for days
And you searching for a man
With the lightest touch
To tuck you in
Before beginning
Another day

I envy the last man
You let dance with you
The last that you stopped
From passing you by

I find myself wondering
Who was your last laugh
And who you keep in your window glass
Before you fall asleep

I think of every man
Who's said goodnight
And I rightly grow to believe
That life may be a giant lottery
Where the things we truly want
We gain with destiny and luck

Like kissing your hand
Or tucking you in

Like making you feel safe
Or feeling your heart
While falling asleep

I envy the men
Whose memories you keep

As I envy the light
That each night enters your room
And grooms your body
As you drift away

I play it all out in my head
While in bed myself
A shelf full of poets
On a shelf to my right

And here's where I can close my eyes
And be the only man
Wishing you goodnight

A Lamp in the Forest

There's a lamp in the forest
And an armchair
And a small table
Upon which you may place
Your cup of tea

There's a dancing man named Larry
Who will present you with chocolate
And invite you to sit down
And listen to political discourse
While he performs selections
From his own choreography

Monkeys come down from trees
Holding trays covered with canape
And you can pick one off
And pass on the rest
And the monkeys will fly back up
Into the cloud covers
Where litmus tests will be administered to them
And if they fail
They shall be made into men

Once Larry has performed his dance
The ground underneath you will break apart
And giant flowers will come crashing upwards
Hitting the lowest branches of the trees
And sprinkling pollen down
On top of you

(Luckily, you're not allergic)

Once the flowers have settled in
Young girls with long flowing locks
Will come to tap the water
In the stems of the flowers
Because flower water
Is the best kind of water
For washing your hair with

When these girls have finished
Shampooing and conditioning
They will run their hands
Through each other's hair
And giggle at the softness
And dance around in a circle
Until the wind created
By the whipping of their hair
Causes an atmospheric pressure change
That will erupt into a storm

Once the storm comes
The lamp must be turned off
And the monkeys
Must reschedule their tests

And you must run back, my little friend
Back to where you came from

For isn't it your birthday today?
And isn't that your mother calling?
And aren't you a little old
To be playing in the forest

Well, that's alright
It was just one night

When Sharon Shuts Up Shop

When Sharon shuts up shop
She waits 'til late
To close the blinds

She reminds the customers
In a quiet voice
That the late nite riot
Must come to an end

And that Sunday she's closed
For business

She feels no need to rush
And usually there aren't any people to rush
But she does the reminder anyway
To the mannequin display
If they listen

She gets a glass of wine from the back
The rack gets her shoes
And the blues get played
Over the radio

She works at a shoe shop
In a little town outside a big city
And from the end of the street
Where Main meets Madigan
You can see the buildings
Beckoning from beyond

She sips and dips her toes
Into pairs she would never wear

Some may find this unsanitary
But most of her wares go unpurchased
So there's really no harm

She could always close earlier
On Saturday nights
But she's getting too old
To do the eight-hour power social shower
Where new people rain upon her
Reviving her from a hard day's work

Instead she goes out as late as she can
Finding the winding down night
As it begins
To lift off the land

She meets it as it goes
And then goes home to sleep
Creeping into bed
As if sneaking past
Her parents' bedroom door
Though she is well past
Birthday thirty-four

She'll sleep in tomorrow
And the shoes will sit tight
Until Monday

For now it's a night
It's a lovely night

Greater Than God

He scrubs it off
The dirt
Off his hands
He has to scrub
To get it all off

He wipes his nose
Runny, sniveling
He can't keep it dry

The rain outside doesn't help
He still feels drenched
From the water outside
And for some reason
He can taste salt on his tongue

Melody's boy came to him late in the day
Asking for a confession
Saying he'd done something bad

He gave him the confession
And when he'd heard what he'd done
He asked Jessica to come see him
See what could be done

She was a spiteful girl
Looking to trap a boy
And she laughed at him
When he suggested
That she give the baby away

'What, Father? You sure you don't just want me to rip it out of myself and throw it in trash?'

Girl had evil in her
That was certain
No baby coming to place in her
Was going to come to anything good

Still he tried to stay calm
He had nine months to reason with her
Melody's boy was a good kid
Going to go to college in the fall
Make something out of himself

When he said this to her, she replied with rage--

'And leave me--ain't that what you mean? Yeah, well, he ain't goin' anyplace. He's going to stay right here with me and the baby unless he can find a way to take us with him.'

That's what this was about
She wanted a free ride

He took her by the shoulders
So frustrated
Trying to talk sense into her

When she slapped him across the face

The move startled him

He was a man of God

Nobody had acted violently towards him
Since he was a child

He slapped her back
And when the blow landed
He regretted it instantly

Thoughts of repercussions ran through his mind
What could happen if she told people
He had struck her

She was not well-liked in town
But rumors were rumors
And they were no good to anybody

Still he told himself later
That none of these thoughts
Were the reason for what happened next

The girl had lost her mind
She jumped on him
And began pelting him with her fists

She hit him near his temple
And he worried that though she was small
She would tear him apart
She seemed to have such fury in her

He was terrified
He remembered those nights when he was a boy
When the blows would land so hard
He'd pass out and wake up to them again

He couldn't push her off
But when she knocked his hand to the ground
He felt the rock
And instinctively it was up
And against the side of her head

And her hands opened
And went limp

At first he didn't see the blood
It poured into the ground first
And then spread out from underneath her

He scrambled away from the body
Wanting to run
Wanting to leave her there

But he knew about evidence
And he knew about investigations
And he knew about what happens
When you panic

So he pulled himself together
And picked up the body
After wrapping the head
So as not to spread anymore blood around
But even then it got all over him
And everything else

Luckily it started to rain
And he took that as a sign
That he was doing the right thing

He brought her to the quarry
To the deep part
Where deep ponds of water
Made the place look almost serene

He threw her in

On the way back
The rain went from a sign and a blessing
To a punishment

The drops became points
Sharp points
Thumbtacks
On his skin

When he got back to the church
He scrubbed at his hands
Recalling that play with the murderer's wife
And how hard she scrubbed

He thought of Melody
The night she came to him
Telling him the boy was coming for confession
Telling him he had to do something
That he had a responsibility

She made him promise to act
Just as she had made him promise
To stay away from the boy
So many years ago

The night they had conceived the boy
It was raining as well

That had been a kinder rain

But he would make peace with this
For his son would have to leave this town
Not just because there was no future here
But because he couldn't bear to see him anymore

He believed that God hated murderers
But it didn't matter
For he believed a promise is the one thing
That's greater than God

Tony Hooper's Lemonade Stand

This is my lemonade stand
Allow me to introduce you
To my wares

First of all, This is raspberry lemonade
I sell it for more than the regular lemonade
Because it tastes like raspberries
And you get a gift with purchase

The GWP is an autographed photo of me
In my school play
The school edition of 'The Bell Jar'

I played Ted Hughes
And my teacher Mrs. Brugel
Said I did really well
At playing conflicted

Which I think means
I did a good job
At shaking my head a lot
And looking sad

That's my first of all

Second of all, I raised the price on my lemonade
Because last year when I sold it for ten cents a cup
We were in a much different economic primate

For those of you not familiar with economics
A primate is when your Dad won't take you to Storyland
Like he was supposed to
Because his company is making cutbacks
And he wants to make sure he can keep making the payments
On his gas-guzzling environment destroyer

When you have a good primate
Your Dad can keep his promises
And your mom can still walk by DKNY
Without bursting into tears

That's my second of all

Triple time love tag is (My cousin Scott taught me that)

My triple time love tag is that I'm not selling lemonade to Fat Pants
I don't need his kind of business

He likes to hang around my stand for hours
And he only buys one cup of lemonade

Plus he keeps asking me
If I have free wireless

I tell him that nothing's free in life
And I like wires
So why doesn't he just go away?

But then he buys one of my Mom's cookies
So I have to let him stay for another hour

I don't get to keep any of Mom's cookie money
That all goes back to her 'I Need a New Marc Jacobs Bag' fund

I really shouldn't be selling Fat Pants cookies
Because it's only contributing to the childhood obesity epidemic
But my materialistic nature trumps concern for my fellow man

Plus, the cookies will make him thirsty
So he'll have to buy more lemonade

I'm a pretty nude businessman, I have to say

Well, I gotta go now
I have to film a commercial for my stand

Things haven't really been going well
So we're going to have a fire sale

That way I can collect on the insurance

Here's Where You Can Lose Your Mind

Here's where you can
Be the savior
Be your Jesus
Be serene

Here's a bed
And here's a desk
And here's some paper
Write your feelings

See if you can sit quietly
See if you can stop the ghosts
See if you can stretch your grace
To every corner
Of this tiny place

Here's where you can
Here's where you can lose your mind

See if you can drop your guard
And drag yourself to the window
To the view of the park
And the forest
And the landscape
And the ferris wheel
And the paradise

Demonstrate your ability
To contain your sanity
So that when they ask you questions
You can smile and answer eloquently
About the advances you've made
In paving your own mind

See if you can find
An example
In your past memory
Of a good person
And a citizen
And a rational being

And when they leave
You can collapse again
And avalanche into bed
For another three days
Till you lose track of time

Here's where you can do it
Here's where you can lose your mind

You can go back into the ruined building
That you call your happy home
And put up the pictures
And put back the furniture
And dance around the kitchen
Fixing wall holes as you go
Patching them up with fabrications
Decorating all the brown spots
Where the past at last seeped through

And once you do
You can build it back again

But until then, my friend
Just lose it

You're here, aren't you?

And here's where you can lose your mind

Mutual

I've begun to dislike
The word 'mutual'

Because I want to make you breakfast
And because wanting me to make you breakfast
Is not a 'mutual' thing

The feeling's not--'mutual'

Many feelings are not 'mutual'

We share a certain taste
And certain interests
And ideas
And occasionally I can make you laugh

Which is sort of like...

It's like I've figured out
How to construct a lunar eclipse

I look at you laugh
And think--

Wait--that's a miracle

Was that me?

But I'm sure when you make me laugh
You're pleased with yourself
But not mystified
Desperately desiring to do it again

So you see
The feeling's not--

'Mutual'

Now just hearing the word
Makes me cringe

In any context

Mutual funds
Mutual friends
Mutually exclusive

Cringe
Wince
Grimace

If it were a matter of attraction
I could live
I could get by
I've dealt with people
Not being attracted to me
And it's something you learn to adapt to

But you don't want me to make you breakfast

You don't want to go out one night
And dance around the city
And make a total fool of yourself
And watch me do the same
And stumble back into your apartment
At some ungodly hour
And pass out laying parallel to each other
So that we'll be guaranteed to see each other
Right before we fall asleep

And then wake up the next day
And hear bacon sizzling
And know I'm in the kitchen
Waiting for you to wake up
So I can surprise you

The fact that you don't want that
That you have no interest in that
That everything about that dream of mine
Is not 'mutual'

It's an incredibly lonely feeling

Like I'm holding gold in my hand
And nobody can see it but me

It's only gold if it's 'mutual'
And it's not
It's just not 'mutual'

So instead it's just an open hand
And a friendly exchange
And a few good laughs

And keeping it all
To myself

You Ain't Leavin' With My Kid

Brady, why don't go home?

Why don't you go home
And sober up
And shut up
And think about
How foolish your life has become?

Because you ain't gettin' what you came for
Because you ain't leavin' with my kid

Matt's asleep
And he's got school tomorrow
And even if he didn't
I sure ain't letting him go anywhere
With a drunk
At two am
And I don't care if half of him is
Biologically connected to you

Now if you'd like a souvenir of tonight
I can give you one of the many belongings
You still have hanging out here
Hoping maybe one day
You're going to work your way back into this house

I'd be happy to erase that thought from your memory
By giving you back some of your things

Your beer mugs
Your broken television
Your collection of pens
With naked women on the inside of 'em

You can have all of it
All packed up in a nice little box

But you can't have my kid

Don't go talkin' about court
Because you'd lose in court
And even if you didn't
I'd spit in the judge's face
And take my kid to Mexico
Before I'd let you lay a hand on him

He's a quiet little boy
With a quiet little soul
And he's been gettin' all worked up lately
Thinkin' he was gonna wind up with you

So I told him that wasn't goin' to happen
And in case you forgot
I'm the parent that keeps the promises

That means you gotta leave, Brady

You may not be able to leave with your pride
Or your old girlfriend
Or your son
But at least you're leaving with a pretty little tail
Tucked right where your gusto should be

And if you still plan on hanging around
I'm going to go find myself something sharp
And make sure you leave here
With some cuts in you
That I'll swear you got during a bar fight

So go on and take off
Because you ain't leavin' with my kid

But you'll get over it
Seems to me
You're getting pretty good
At leaving empty-handed

The People on the Train

In front of you are people
The people on the train

In front of you are possibilities
Choices, life paths
Decisions to make

If you talk to the boy
Reading the book
That you read
And enjoyed

You will have a lovely conversation
And end up exchanging phone numbers
Which will lead to a coffee date
Which will lead to a dinner date
Which will lead to drinks
Which will lead to drunkenness
Which will lead to sex
Which will lead to love
Which will lead to him leaving
And never taking the train you're on again

And later you'll tell yourself
That it wasn't really that good of a book anyway

If you ask the woman
Crying behind her sunglasses
If she's okay

She won't have the strength to tell you
To mind your own business
But instead will divulge to you
How her boss has called her worthless
Every day for the past year

You will tell her to tell him
To go fuck himself
And she will
And she will quit her job
And she will take you out to celebrate with her
And she will become your new best friend
And when you lose your job
She will hire you to work at the business she started
That subsequently put her boss out of business

If you talk to the crying woman on the train
You'll remember than an act of kindness
And minding your own business
Are two totally separate things

If you talk to the man
Who looks like your third grade teacher
You'll find out that he's not a serial rapist
As you originally had thought

But rather an artist
Who hasn't painted anything decent
In years

He'll invite you over for wine
And you'll sleep with him much sooner
Than it would have taken you
To sleep with the boy reading the book
You thought you liked

You'll wake up under a wool blanket
And find the artist shirtless
Sweat pants hanging down
Around the very bottom of his waist

Drinking orange juice
And marveling at your body

And you'll pull him back to bed
With a hand through your hair
And you'll spend days on end
Just touching each other
In different places
Trying to map out in memory
Your bodies' geography

You'll feel a bit crazy
Sleeping with a stranger
From the train

But you won't care
For very long

If you talk to the little girl with her mother
You will find out that she is a ballet dancer
And her mother will tell you that she's very good
And the little girl will tell you without telling you
But by simply looking into your eyes
That she hates ballet dancing
But doesn't know how to tell her mother

So you'll mention an article to her mother
An article you haven't read
About how little girls who dance ballet
Wind up barren when they grow older

And that will be the end
Of the ballet
And the beginning of piano lessons
For the little girl

And she will grow up
To become a world famous pianist
And on her first album
You will be mentioned in the liner notes
As the 'angel on the train'

If you talk to these people
You will change lives
The lives of others
And your own

But you don't have to talk to them
It's not required

They're just paths
And places
And experiences
And strangers
And memories
And people

They're just the people
On the train

I'm Not Here to See You

I’m not here to see you
Oh, don’t get me wrong, God
I’m thrilled to see you

I had no idea you were so tall

That means I won a bet
With my friend Clive

Is he dead yet?

No?

Well, win one bet
Lose another

It was really nice meeting you, God
But I’d really like to see my Pop

I wouldn’t mind seeing Charlie Chaplin
If he’s walking around here somewhere
But my Pop is who I really want to see

I gotta be honest with you, God
I’m not too crazy about being dead

My wife is devastated
My kids are heartbroken
My coffin smells funny

It’s just not what I expected

But if I can see my Pop
I’ll be all right

When I was a kid
He used to play checkers with me
And he’d never let me win

The bastard

I never got any good at checkers
While he was alive
And now that I am
I want to play him in a game
And really clean his clock

I know checkers might not be
Everyone’s reason
For wanting to get up here

But for me
Checkers with Pop

That’d make being dead not all that bad

At least until Clive gets up here
Then we can really tear up this joint

Sometimes I Pretend

Sometimes I Pretend

Sometimes I look
Sometimes I don’t wanna
Sometimes I do anyway

I look and look to see
If I can find the you I need
Deep inside that friendly exterior

Sometimes I pretend
That it’s washed away
By a newfound perspective
Or a subtle change

A change maybe I haven’t controlled
But a change all the same

Sometimes I pretend
That you’re next to me asleep
When I close my eyes
And place my hand
As far away as I think it would be
If you were there next to me

I don’t dream of cinematic exchanges
In front of fountains in Europe
Or lovemaking sessions
At a cabin somewhere

I just dream of waking up
And making you breakfast

Of not having to say ‘I love you’
Because ‘I love you’ is a way of life

I dream of trying to read
On a Sunday morning couch
Being distracted
By watching you read

Sometimes I pretend
That one day it’ll happen
That time is the only obstacle
That one day I’ll learn a word
That unlocks the block
That stops you
From seeing me
Only to the boundary
Of what I can manage to show

Sometimes I know
It won’t happen

But even though I shouldn’t
I pretend

Sometimes

I do

Amanda, In Church

She thinks about having sex last night
She thinks about the fact that it was good
It was really good sex
But it was also embarrassing
In that way
That really good sex is

Had she actually allowed herself
To be blind-folded?

Well, she was drunk
There was that too

She was still sort of drunk
Drunk and giggly
Because she was drunk thinking about sex
Thinking about that guy naked
That guy named...Matt!

There, she wasn't a slut
The guy had a name
His name was Matt

The priest had reached the sermon
Much like a hyena reaches a carcass
He was ready to dig in
Amanda could gather that much

It had been twelve years
Since she had been in church
But now here she was
Attending her niece's communion mass

Her sister went to church every week
Thereby solidifying her status
As the spiritual one in the family
Or, the one in the family
Everyone likes to talk shit about

Just yesterday
Before going out and getting drunk
Amanda had conversed with her mother
About her sister, Danielle

'She just thinks she's so--'
'I know, sweetheart, but that's how she is.'
'I can't fucking stand her.'
'I know, a lot of people can't.'
'I'm going out. I need to get trashed for this thing tomorrow.'
'Just don't drink and drive.'
'I'm not.'

She was

'And don't be late tomorrow. I don't feel like listening to your sister yell at me for raising an unpunctual daughter.'
'Tell her to fuck off.'
'I can't. We'll be in church.'
'I can't wait to get trashed tonight. I'm going to get so trashed.'
'I'm going to the casino. Don't do anything you'll regret later.'

She did

But it was a Saturday
That's what Saturday nights were for

If God wanted people in shape by Sunday
He should have put his day in the middle of the week
When people were more apt
Not to go out and get hammered

The priest was talking about responsibility
And he was looking right at her

Fuck him

She was here
Wasn't she?

She could have skipped the whole day
Like the rest of the world
Skips church
But she was here

Supporting her niece
Who is definitely the coolest little girl in the world
Who will be ruined
By her mother's over-protectiveness
And her insisting Jesus upon her awesome child

Danielle keeps shooting Amanda looks
As if just by being there hung-over
She's committing some sort of crime

All of it was making it really hard for Amanda
To not just throw up then and there

That was a talent she had
She could throw up
On cue
Anywhere

People thought she had an eating disorder
And she guessed her talent would have been helpful
If she did have one
But if anything
She had the opposite

She always thought she looked skinny
Even when she had to walk around in pajama pants
But nothing else fit her

Her perception was in a constant state
Of alteration

On goes the priest
Not mentioning God
Not yet
Amanda remembers
How priests sometimes do that in sermons

They leave God until the very end
As if exposing him as the murderer

"You know who did that...? GOD!"

She wished that pews came with dividers
Like limousines

She sees no reason
Why the priest should have to look at her
Or why she should have to look at him

It was the word of God, after all
As long as you could hear it
Why should sight be involved?

She was going to have to reward herself after this
Brunch at Toga with mimosas
Afternoon movie by herself to detox
Maybe the Sunday Night series at the Denouement

Life was all about doing shit
Then treating yourself
For accomplishing it

"...and you know where that love comes from, don't you?"

Ben and Jerry?

"GOD!"

Damn, she thought maybe this time
It would be different

She remembered being in a church like this one
For her Dad's funeral

Amanda remembers exactly three things
About her father:

1) His coughing
2) His laughing
3) His hatred of church

Her Mom would get her and Danielle up and dressed
In nice white dresses
Which meant no eating anything fun for breakfast
Because then stains were a possibility

(And with Amanda, a distinct possibility)

And their father would sit in the living room
Watching television
Not even entertaining the notion
Of going to church

"Church is bullshit"

The only time Amanda's mother managed
To get their father into church
Was, as he had promised
Over his dead body

Amanda remembered sitting there
In church
Listening to another priest
Much like the one she was listening to now
Talk about the impermanence of death

And suddenly the word rang out
Not the word of God
But the word of her father

'Bullshit'

Even as a child
She understood
That death was very permanent

And that the only reason to imply that it wasn't
Was to soothe people

She looked around
At her mother
At Danielle
At the other parishioners

And understood why they were there
They needed to be soothed

Amanda didn't need that
She wasn't going to allow that
She had been a storm her whole life
Just like her father
And she'd be damned if she'd let anyone
Pull her into port
Before she was ready

There was one part of church she liked

Shaking hands with people
And wishing them peace

As much as she didn't like shaking hands
Of total strangers

(Strangers who haven't bought her anything)

It felt good to be given peace
Or the idea of peace
And to give it back to someone

It was hard being a storm
And the desire for calm water
Would wash over her every once in awhile

So when the time came
To wish for peace

She shook her mother's hand
She shook her sister's hand
She knelt down and shook her niece's hand
And kissed her on the cheek

"Peace be with you, sweetie."

She looked at her niece
In her little white dress
And she wished for more than peace
If she was a storm
She wanted this little girl
To be lighthouse

A separate light
Not just protected from the madness
But a guide to get people out of it

If anyone could walk on water
It would be her

It would be
This little girl

He Changed You

Why'd you let him change you?

From crystallized ivory
To charcoal pitch

Clouding up a starless sky
So that you couldn't see the ocean
Hanging low behind you

He lost you so well
Even you can't find you

He changed an understanding
Into a narcosis

A tender surface
Into a hardened edge

Your gloss used to blind me
Now I'm behind in my admiration
Though my hesitation to point this out
Is mostly about realization

That you don't see it
Do you?

And the tough part is
Only you
Can change you
Back

Eye Contact

You don't have to
Read my love poems
You don't have to
Do me favors

You don't have to
You don't have to

You don't have to travel with me
Or go to town with me
Or stay on my arm
Or cross the room to me
Or promise me, promise me
Anything at all

You don't have to
No, you don't
Don't you worry

All I want is eye contact
All I need from you
Is a steadfast gaze
Raising my temp
To temporarily destroy
The doubt I have
That you'll shout my name
Across this crowded canvas

Connect with my sight
And I'll do the rest
The best move I have
Is the touch of your glance
Taking a chance to step onto my face

Place me somewhere within your line of vision
And with precision I'll make the decision to go for it
Like a bike-riding teenager outside his girlfriend's house

I don't need a car
I don't need a boombox
I don't need to believe
That you need me

All I need is eye contact

In the Event That I Die

Dear Kids,

In the event that I die, do not allow your father to remarry.
I have no interest in him being happy after my death.
I have an interest in him becoming a lonely old man
With a dog and a few plants.

As far as him taking care of himself
He'll be fine.
They make soup in plastic containers now.

I'm going to leave this letter on the dining room table
Before I head out to the airport.

It might seem silly to get so excitable
Over a three hour plane ride
But I remember what they buried your Auntie Ann in
When she forgot to specify an outfit
And let's just say better safe than sorry

Or better yet
Better safe
Than buried in a floral mu mu

Your Uncle Chris says he's had a rash since your Aunt died
All over his back
I think that's just her way
Of getting back at him

Assure your father that if he buries me in anything
Other than the blue outfit I have in the back of my closet
I will put an even bigger rash
On an even more uncomfortable part
Of his body

In the event that I die
Tell your grandmother
That I never liked her
Actually, tell BOTH grandmothers that

Lizzie, you get to keep my jewelry
Madison, you get to keep my car
Jerry, you can have whatever pills you can find in the medicine cabinet

I am satisfied with the job I have done as a mother
Up until this point

I can't say I'm thrilled
But I did what I could
With what I had

And when all else fails
You all got fresh cookies
At least once a week

Who knew baked goods
Was the secret
To fabricating
A happy childhood?

Finally, if the plane should go down in flames
Please remember not to let anyone I went to high school with
Attend the funeral
Unless they plan on throwing themselves
Into the ground with me

I love you, but you already know that.
What you may not know
Is that if that plane were to go down
The last thing I'd think
Before entering oblivion
Would be that family photo we took at Yellowstone

When Lizzie's face was pale from vomiting up trail mix
And Madison had hickeys from local park ranger, Lou
And Jerry was temporarily blind in one eye
After a bad encounter with a mushroom
He was not at all ready for

And your father and I were exhausted
And we hated each other
And we hated the three of you

Believe it or not
Looking at that photo now
As I stand in our dining room
I think two things

1. Why did we ever hang that God awful photo up in the dining room?
2. All that agony we thought was hatred? That was family.

So if I can impart one lesson to you
It's this

Years later
Horrible experiences will seem funny
And touching
And wonderful

As long as you have them with family

So have them
Have lots of them

And maybe by the grace of God
I won't have to be there when you do

Love, Just in Case
Mom

Heaven Sex

If there's sex in heaven
I think it'll involve memory
I think it'll be your best memory
Lived over and over again
With the person you're with

I think Heaven Sex
Is grabbing someone's hand
And remembering when you loved each other

When you rode a roller coaster together
Or made a botched apple pie together
Or, I guess, had sex together
But that would be sort of obvious

I'd like to take the hand
Of a former friend
And be friends again

To me
That would be Heaven Sex

Dad's Beard

We'd know
When Dad
Would grow
The beard

Our father never forgot to shave
When he let his beard grow
It was a distinct choice
An admission

That he just
Didn't give
A fuck
Anymore

It meant a return to silent breakfast tables
And dinners with nothing
But the sound of the next door neighbors
Laughing, laughing at their kids
Telling stories

The same stories we had
Because we went to the same schools
And had the same foibles

But we did not
Have the same father

Mom wouldn't panic
Not at all, not at all

She could get him up out of bed
She could get him to eat
She could even cajole him
Into going to work everyday

But shaving that beard
Was beyond her capabilities

He liked that beard
Like he liked the silence
And the lights off
And the tv glaring at us
As they walked through the living room
On our way to bed

Sometimes we'd have dreams
Of erasing that beard off his face
Like that man with magnetic mustache
That they sell in the cheap section
Of the toy store

We'd take away the beard
And maneuver a magnetic smile
Onto our father's face

It was possible
It was altogether possible

But then we'd wake up
And he'd still be in that recliner
Watching that tv
Unaware that it was now nothing but static
The cable station he'd been taking in
Switched over to informercials
And then to nothing

Watching, watching
Watching, watching
Watching, watching

School for us
Work for Mom
None for him, thanks

He'd called out sick today

His boss would get concerned
When he heard my mom's voice
He was a kind man
And all he had to ask was--

'When was the last time he shaved?'

A strange thing
For a beard to be an omen
A white flag

Some men look good with beards
But our father was not one of him

It simply made him look sloppy
And nasty
And ominous
And pale

One time we tried to shave off the beard
Believing it to be the anchor holding down his ship
In some dark water off a brighter coast

And we could bring in his ship
If we shaved off that beard

He grabbed the hand
Before the blade
Could grace his chin

And he looked at us
And held the hand right where it was
The blade dipped a little
Aiming at his Adam's apple

He let go of the hand
And closed his eyes
And seemed to be waiting

But we knew he wasn't waiting
For the shave

We knew he was waiting
And hoping
We could save him
In some other way

I Will Object

You better not invite me
To your wedding

You better not

Because if I am invited
I will sit quietly
I will steeeeewwww

Then when the priest asks
If anyone has any objections

I will object

I WILL OB-JECT

I will not sit in a house of God
And sit silently
While he looks down on me
Shaking his head

Like he's saying--

'I know you're not going to let this happen, Missy!'

So I'll have to say something
Then you'll get mad
And I'll get yelled at
By your father
Who don't have any problem
Sitting and doing nothing
Because that's all he ever does anyway
And God will deal with him
When he gets the chance

But I cannot do that
Because I am your mother
And God judges mothers
With a harsher hand

So I will object
I will HAVE TO object

Not because he's a bad guy
But because you're too young
And too damn optimistic
To be getting married

Nobody should get married
Until they've resolved themselves
To the cruelty of the world

Because that's what you learn
When you get married
You learn about cruelty

You learn that you work your ass off
For money that you spend
On getting a furnace fixed

You learn that you have a rage inside you
You never knew existed
Until you see your husband flirting
With the hooker across the street

You learn that your children
Are determined to lead the life you led
Even as they're criticizing you
For leading it

Cruel, cruel, cruel

You haven't learned about cruelty yet, baby
I sheltered you from the cruelty
But this shelter just lost its roof
You wanna see cruelty
Then invite me to your wedding
And watch me object

Because I will
I will NEED TO object

I won't have any choice

So if I were you
I'd consider
Inviting me to the reception

Because though I may object to this marriage
As long as I'm paying for it
I might as well get an open bar out of it

Friends From Home

He sits in his dorm
And won't go out

He's following Danica on Twitter
And she's out getting drunk
With her new friends

Those are the big words

'New friends'

All his old friends
Now have new friends

While he sits home
Monitoring his old friends
Through the power
Of social networking

Jay's out in Chicago
Seeing a play
That his new boyfriend was in

Scottie's having dinner
With his girlfriend's parents
At some restaurant
In New York

Kelly is in Austria
On a movie set
Assisting the assistant director

He remembers when Jay
Was dating Kelly
Who hated being dragged to movies

He remembers Scottie
On a day trip to New York
Hyperventilating and swearing
He was never going back

He remembers Danica
GIving them all a lecture
When they got drunk after homecoming
About how immature they looked

That was all a year ago
Even a little bit less

All his friends from home
Were success stories
And here he is
Sitting in a dorm room

Catching up on tv shows he never meant to watch
And posting blogs about the shows
Never once writing the one sentence
That was true above all

'I miss my friends'

Posting this would illicit phone calls
From all but Kelly
Who would simply post on his status
And tell him to go out
And have fun
And she'd see him at Christmas

So instead he writes about Californication
And how underrated it is

He plays music
Softly, but enough to make him feel
Like there's a presence in the room
Other than himself
And the cologne cloud left
By his roommate

'Hey, why don't you come out with me tonight?'

Because he didn't want to create new history
What a daunting task
To have to start from scratch
To have to meet someone
And know you'd spend weeks
Just catching them up
Assuming they gave you the chance

Instead he waits for his friends to get home
And one by one, they do

Danica is--trashed but satisfied. Love my Girlz!

It didn't take long
For a group of strange alcoholics
To become Danica's girls

It makes you feel devalued as a friend
To see yourself become replaced so easily

It makes you wonder if maybe you were just kept around
Because there was no other choice
Because when you go to school with people
Sometimes friendships are formed
Out of sheer geography

Jay is--sooooo proud of his boyfriend! <3 You Paolo!

Five months ago
Jay would still take your head off
If you even suggested
He might like boys

Apparently he was waiting
Until he was in the safety shield
Known as a big city
To let loose

No wonder he had no plans on coming home
Not even for the holidays

Kelly is--having dinner with Hugh Jackman. Jealous? I know you are.

She really was a bitch

Had he just never noticed that?

Maybe it had seemed like something else
Maybe before it had seemed like confidence
A funny kind of confidence
That you could laugh off

But sitting objectively on a computer screen
It just seemed bitchy

Downright bitchy

Scottie is--thinking of throwing himself off a bridge

. . . . .

'Hey Scott, what's up?'
'Oh hey man, how are you?'
'Good. I saw your status.'
'Just getting in, huh?'
'Yeah, something like that. You okay?'
'Man, I had dinner with my girlfriend's parents and...'
'Yeah?'
'Shit, I fucked up, man.'
'You want to talk about it?'
'Nah, it'd just be me whining.'
'I don't mind.'
'Yeah?'
'Yeah, go ahead. I got nothing but time.'

So he sits and listens to his friend
Talk about how he screwed up an important dinner
And got into a fight with his girlfriend
And made out with another girl
Who lived in the same building as him

And he's glad he stayed home
Glad he got another chance
To help a friend from home

Lucy's Fake Conversation

Jen's a doctor
That's right, Sharon
A doctor

I know, time flies

Remember when we were so concerned
Because she was dating that boy Rocco
And we thought she was going to run away and get married
And have two kids, both of whom were born with abnormally large hands?

Well, that DIDN'T happen

PHEW!

She's a doctor now
She invented a cure for severe acne
Something to do with goat saliva

Total breakthrough

Oh, and Tom?

He's a lawyer now
Has absolutely no interest
In worshipping Satan anymore

Goes to church all the time now
Loves Jesus--LOVES Jesus
Knows the whole Bible by heart

And when he's not at church
He's prosecuting murderers
And pedophiles
And his old buddies
Who got him into pentagrams
And all that craziness

Good old Tom
My little boy
All grown up

And me?

Oh, I've lost seventy-five pounds
I got married--again

Staying with Steve wasn't an option
Once I realized the recliner
Was more important to him
Than I was

So of course I didn't stay with him
For ten more years

I got married to a rich guy from Tampa
And I'm bringing him to the reunion next week
Where I'm sure I'll see you, Sharon

You were always so mean to me in high school
When I saw you at the ten year
My life was such a shambles
But everything's great now

And I can't wait to tell you
All about it

He Was Closer

You were brilliant
You were breathtaking
You were better
Than anyone
I'd ever had

But he was closer

You were a devastating reality
He was a vacation in my comfort zone

You were a dream come true
He was sleeping in on a day off
A day meant to be productive

You were a souffle
He was chocolate pudding
The kind where you lick the lid

You were rewarding
But he was closer

You were majestic in scope
Him I could keep an eye on

You were Scrabble
He was Shoots and Ladders

You were an atom splicer
He was a cheese grater

But you know what it really came down to?

You were two hours away
And he was down the street

It sounds stupid
But though I hate to admit it
Let alone confess it

That's what it was

He was closer

He was within my distance
In so many more ways
Than you can understand

Closer, that's all

That's all it was

If I Could Leave My Pride, I'd Stay With You

If I could leave my pride
I'd stay with you

I'd put away my indignation
And crawl back into your bed
Pulling the covers up over my hurt
And deserting my frustration
With the things you did

With the things I want to say
You couldn't help but do

I'd be so forgiving of you
And your indiscretions
But I'd have a hard time
Not mentioning them
Every time we fight

I wish I could want you
More than I want to be right

I would I could forget
How hard I've worked
To be perceived to be strong
Believed to be incapable
Of ever choosing wrong

Or saying 'They screwed up
But I love them still'

Will I dispose of the rules
I've ingrained my mind
To find happiness with you
A sinner who wants to make a beginner out of me
Start from scratch and gleefully ignore
The urge to call you a whore
Whenever I think of you with him

It's tempting to let go
Of who I am
And go along with you
For the ride

I'd kill to stay with you
But not when staying with you
Means leaving my pride

Section Two

Mr. Pretlan, I understand that you're upset.

You've been dead for about two hours
And no one has bothered to explain
Procedure to you yet

Allow me to do so

You CANNOT be reunited with Brian Thistle
Because Mr. Thistle is living with his wife
In Section Seven

Section Seven is where men live
With their wives
After both spouses have died

Single people live in Section Seventeen

Single people are allowed to visit their parents
In Section Seven
But since Mr. Thistle was not a relative
You will not be permitted to visit him

Yes, Mr. Pretlan, I am FULLY aware
Of the relationship you and Mr. Thistle shared on Earth
But you are no longer ON Earth

Now, you are in my domain, Mr. Pretlan
And in my domain
You are Section Seventeen
And Mr. Thistle is in Section Seven

If you take issue with this
Feel free to file a report
Which will never be read
Or acknowledged

Please understand, Mr. Pretlan
It's not that I want you to be unhappy
It's actually the exact opposite

I want you to be happy
You're in Heaven after all

You should be happy

But Mr. Thistle also needs to be happy
And so does Mrs. Thistle

And if I let you visit Mr. Thistle in Section Seven
Then Mrs. Thistle will not be happy
And chances are
Neither will you or Mr. Thistle

I would suggest that you retire to Section Seventeen
And meet another nice man who also lives in Section Seventeen
And just forget about Brian Thistle

Doesn't that sound good?

. . . . .

Mr. Pretlan, I have a long, long list of people
Who have problems with Heaven

When I took this job
I had no idea
That the complaint line in Heaven
Would be so long

I couldn't even believe there WAS a complaint line in Heaven

After all
This is Heaven

But apparently
Making EVERYONE happy
Is what I'm destined
To spend eternity doing

All this because on Earth
I was mean to waitresses
And doing this job
Is the only way I get to stay up here

Luckily for me
Doing this job WELL
Is not a requirement

So yes, I often fail
At making everyone happy

The other day
I had a mother ask me
Where her son was

I told her that her son murdered a man on Earth
And that he wouldn't be joining her in Heaven

She said, 'Sir, I lived a good life, didn't I?'
I said, 'Obviously you did, ma'am, you're here.'
She replied, 'Then I'm supposed to be happy, right?'
I said, 'Yes, ma'am, you are.'
She looked at me and said--

'I won't be happy without my son.'

Now what am I supposed to say to that?

Even better
If I were to get God to forgive her son
I'm still pretty confident I wouldn't be able to get the wife
Of the man he killed
To forgive her son
Or the actual man himself
Who also happens to be up here

So how do you win?

The entire concept of Heaven
Was not really well thought out

In the Beginning, it was easy

Good and Bad
Virtuous and Evil
Cain and Abel

Now eons later
Everyone's connected
Everyone has opinions about each other
Everyone wants everyone else thrown out of Heaven

I haven't taken a vacation since the 1700's, Mr. Pretlan
Does that mean anything to you?

. . . . .

Look

I may have...oversimplified things a bit
When I said that married couples live in Section Seven

Married couples DO live in Section Seven
But they've a very specific SORT of married couple

They're...uh...married couples
Who may not have had the most...

Joyous...union

The husbands who live in Section Seven
Are very much like you and Mr. Thistle, Mr. Pretlan
Although none of their wives know that

If you truly feel
That not seeing Mr. Thistle
Will hinder your ability to be happy
Here in Heaven

Then I would suggest a trip to Section Twenty-Two
Where Mr. Thistle may be able to join you
If he happens to be called away on business

We don't actually HAVE business up here
Aside from the administrative nonsense
That I'm forced to do
But Mrs. Thistle doesn't need to know that

The nice thing about time up here
Is that a vacation can last up to a few centuries
And Mrs. Thistle would feel like only a few moments had gone by

So...that would be my suggestion

Go to Section Seventeen
Pack a suitcase
And head five Sections up

I'll send word to Mr. Thistle

. . . . .

I haven't exactly got Heaven figured out yet, Mr. Pretlan
Until then I'm doing the best I can

I plan on retiring one day
Once a man very much like you and Mr. Thistle
Makes his way up here

Then he and I will take a trip to Section Twenty-Two
And settle down there until Heaven becomes just a word
In a promise
In a dictionary
In an old book
That nobody reads anymore

Then someone else will take my place
And I'll be happy to turn it over
And sad for the person who gets it

But I do look forward to Section Twenty-Two

Who knows, Mr. Pretlan?

Maybe I'll see you there

Holly's Showbiz Sins

Well...

I didn't eat sausage this morning
Because I didn't feel like it
Then I lied
And told my mother
It was because I'm Jewish now
Even though she's not Jewish
So technically I couldn't be
Unless I converted
Which is just too much time and trouble

Plus then I wouldn't get to give these fun confessions

So I wasted food AND I lied!
How's that for a--

Huh?

Well...

I know that confessions aren't SUPPOSED to be fun
But there's no reason they can't be anyway
I mean, aren't you grateful I try to liven up my confessions, Father?
Otherwise you'd be listening to my best friend Carrie Alejandro
Tell you about how she sort of has a crush on Jesus
And not in an acceptable way at all

Why do they make nine-year-olds do confession anyway?
We haven't done any of the good sins yet
At least, I know I haven't

So sometimes I spice things up a little
Showbiz my sins a little
You know?

Like when I told you I conspired with my lover
To kill my husband
And you made me say three Hail Mary's

Did you actually buy that, Father?
Were the Hail Mary's just penance
For me making up sins?

This entire process is thoroughly confusing to me

For example, if one of the Blatte brothers
Tries to pull my hair
And I shove rubber cement in his mouth
Is that a sin?
Or just self-defense?

You may say one thing, Father
But my attorney says another

The Golden Rule also confuses me

'Treat others as you would like to be treated'

But I want others to FEAR me, Father
Does that mean I should fear them?
Shouldn't I be INSPIRING fear?

Can you clear any of this up?

Huh?

Right

Hail Mary's

Tell you what
How about I just skip them
And then confess to skipping them next week?

After all
We're going to need SOMETHING to talk about

Terry Talks in His Sleep

Terry talks in his sleep

Karen sits up in bed
Looking down at him
Hearing his sleep talk
Tumble out

'Blue gotta run up to sunlight'

It's sort of like poetry
Coming out of this sleeping dentist
Who spends his days
Dreaming of Greece
Where he and Karen met

She listens to him
Like a radio program
And finds out things
He forgets to tell her during the day

'Microwave making food colder'

She had known that for two weeks
But she was happy to hear
That Terry had finally picked up on it

'The porch smells like turkey'

Karen disagreed
It smelled like pot roast
Not that either smell was acceptable

'I miss my Dad a lot sometimes'

Karen missed Terry's Dad too
He always brought her candy
And called her Tamara

The mistake was somehow endearing
That's how sweet a man
His father was

Sometimes Terry doesn't talk
Sometimes he just makes sounds

Sometimes he's the ocean
Sometimes he's a parrot
Sometimes he's the hum of the refrigerator

Then there are nights
When he recites things

He'll recite the children's birthdays
He'll recite every movie he's even seen in chronological order
He'll recite the lyrics to 'Midnight Train to Georgia'

Then he'll stop
And that will be that

More often than not
Karen will hear him
Saying things to her

'Did you stop writing because of me?'

She'll roll over
And answer him

'I never stopped writing. I just stopped talking about writing.'

An hour later...

'Did you want more kids?'
'No, I just wanted smarter kids.'

Two hours later...

'Have I been a good husband?'
'Up until now, you've been stellar.'

In the morning
He doesn't remember these exchanges
And in some odd way
Karen feels as if
She's having a nightly affair
With a much more communicative man

'Have you ever had an affair?'
'No, but I thought about it once. Susan's third grade teacher--Mr. Marlone? I thought he was really something. Turns out so did Mr. Cannavar, the art teacher.'

Sometimes she'd put on music
Since nothing could wake up Terry
Once he was talking

She'd play Etta James
And put on a flimsier nightgown
And they'd have pillow talk
Like they were twenty again

'What did you think the first time we had sex?'
'I kept wondering why you were crying. I thought maybe you were so moved by what was happening that you just couldn't contain yourself. Then I thought, Oh God, please don't let this man cry every time we have sex. Then I realized that you were just crying because you were in pain, because we had rolled over into a thorn bush. Laying there in that garden at two o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday, with you bloody and stuck with thorns all over, all I could think was--Wow, he kept going. That was when I knew I was going to marry you.'

She started to become tired
Because she was staying up all night
Talking to her husband

One day he came home from work
To find her bent over the ironing board
Fast asleep on one of Michael's shirts

He took her up to bed
Laying her down
And pulling the covers over her

As he started to walk out of the room
He heard her mumble something

'What, Karen?'
'I can't sleep--I have to--'
'I'll iron Michael's shirt.'
'I'm sorry I've been so tired lately. I just...'

But then she was asleep

'It's okay,' Terry said, 'We can talk about it later.'

The Portrait of Anna Christine

As a man of God
I am always curious
About the work of man
For man is the work of God

More specifically
I am curious
About the ability man has
To create true beauty

The likes of which
Seem as if
They could only come
From divine inspiration

Such is The Portrait of Anna Christine

The painter of the portrait
Sir Edward Harrington
Was madly in love with Anna
A woman who did not love him back

Edward painted this portrait
In the hopes that Anna would gaze upon it
And see the love he felt for her

Sadly, the opposite occurred

Anna saw the portrait
Felt that it did not resemble her
In the slightest
And continued to scorn Edward
Until she married another man
And died in childbirth

Edward never painted another thing
For the rest of his life
And he died in obscurity

The portrait was discovered many years later
And has since been called a masterpiece
By every critic and art lover
Who takes it in

The Portrait of Anna Christine
Interests me also
As a lover of art

But strangely
It interests me more
As a priest

This is because I see the relationship
Between Anna Christine and Sir Edward
As a lovely and sad sort of metaphor

Anna Christine couldn't love Edward
Because he painted her as he saw her
In brilliant blues and reds
Showing her nothing
But a pure and good version of herself

She had such trouble recognizing
The good in herself
That she turned away from Edward
Because she was ashamed
And embarrassed

She was not the woman in the portrait
Nor could she ever hope to me

There are times when I wonder
If there is a similar situation
Going on between Man and God

He made all of us in His image
And so he made us Good
But he also made us imperfect
He allowed us to fail

Yet since we have failed
Since we are no longer able
To feel we can be that version of ourselves
The one in God's portrait of us
We have turned away from him in shame

I realize this was meant to be a lecture
That has now become a sermon
But when you're a priest
The two are one and the same

I should add that I feel my metaphor
Also lends itself to the argument
That struggling with our belief in our own goodness
And in God
Can sometimes lead to great beauty

Had Anna Christine loved Sir Edward
We would not have this portrait

This beautiful work
Proving that God is in us
And that he can take our heartbreak
And turn it into something

Breathtaking

A Woman Who Can't Fall in Love with Your Words

You've met a woman

A woman who can't
Fall in love
With your words

She's decided that a man
Shouldn't be good
With words

She's decided that her man
Needs to be strong
And she believes
That your words
Are meant to make up
For your lack of muscle

She's decided your soft
And the more notoriety you receive
For your prose and verse
Only serves to make you softer
In her eyes

She uses the stories you write her
To line her trash cans
And her parakeet cages
She's heard that's all the rage to do
When a poet loves you
In Paris

She's lets you wait outside her window
While she brushes her hair
Knowing you're looking up at her
And not directly turning you away
Because she loves not loving you
She loves it more
Than she could ever love
An actual person

The more other people love you
The more they tell her
How brilliant you are
The harder her resolve becomes
To break your heart

Yes, you've done it
You've finally met a woman
Who can't fall in love
With your words

And even though I should feel bad for you
I feel so much worse
For her

The Non-Prodigal Son

So let me get this straight

I should be ashamed of myself
For pointing out to you
That someone who has squandered their inheritance
And brought shame upon their family
Perhaps does not deserve a banquet

Really?

That makes me a bad person?

Oh, I know
I'm your good son
And everything you have is mine
But the lost boy has come home
So now we all have to party

And I don't get parties
Because I'm good
So my goodness is the party

Is that what you're saying?

That the fatted calf
Would only be coming out for me
If I knocked up a few Babylonian whores
And got myself in trouble with loan sharks?

-- Author Interjection --

I have a really big problem
With this whole prodigal son deal

For one thing
It seems to me
A Biblical affirmation
That people love a good comeback story

That the people who do what they're supposed to do
Are nice and all
But that they're not really interesting
So why pay any attention to them?

Back to the monologue

-- End of Interjection --

...And that was AFTER we found the sheep

Lord only knows where the goat went

Look, I'm glad he's back too
He's my brother
But there should be consequences for actions
And those consequences should not be
Party streamers and pony rides

Isn't it enough that we welcomed him back?
Isn't it enough that we're protecting him now?
Isn't all that enough
Without having to do all this?

Yes, he was lost
And now he's found

But in celebrating him
You may be losing someone else

She's the Statue of Liberty

She's got herself
Laid out on the couch
Like she's part of the leather
Tanning herself
In the bay window light
Predicting her day
Will go more wrong than right

Daydreaming
About Ivan
And where he might be

She locked herself up
In a paraplegic position
Stiffening up
Planning to stay that way
Until someone taps her shoulder
And tells her it's okay

Every one who passes by her
Writes a poem about her
And sets their pen to paper
With her lashes on their mind

She can find the bad in anything
But apathy comes harder
And she barters with time
So that Friday will unwind
Rather than unfurl
While she's curled up
Next to the naked furniture

At this moment

She's the Statue of Liberty
She just has to give herself
Permission to be free

Greta at the Waterfall

God and Greta stand at the waterfall
Reflecting on what majesty means

Greta has her hair pulled back
And the spray hits her face
In a light kind of way

She prays by taking God's hand
And bringing it to her chest

'Can you feel it?'
'Yes.'
'Okay.'

They start to walk into the waterfall
And once they're underneath it
The water gives way to a rushing hope
That pours onto Greta
As God goes from dry to high
In a matter of moments

Greta holds up her hands
To let the moisture suck up her fingertips
Like a playful lover
On a Sunday afternoon

She comes here to the waterfall
Instead of church

Her mother disapproves
Tells her she should know her gratitude
For coming through
What she's been through
These past few months

Her mother doesn't realize
That this is where Greta is with God

Here at this waterfall
Being reminded of what God's given her

A life
And the ability to feel it
To really feel it

The chance to get soaking wet
And become dry
And become whole
Again

It's Creepy When You Do It

If some hot piece of somethin'
Called me up for no reason
Just to see if I drove by him
On Picadon Street
I might think nothing of it

But it's creepy when you do it

If some charming man
Got my number from a random acquaintance
Then texted me 'Guess who?'
At midnight
I might find it intriguing

But it's creepy when you do it

If an affable guy
Were to message me five times
In the course of one day
Each longer than the next
I may think it's adorable

But it's creepy when you do it

If somebody showed up at my house
Carrying a steak knife
And a hockey mask
And told me it was a prank
I might find it funny

But it's creepy when you do it

I know it's not fair
I know it's not right
I know the restraining order
May have been a bit much

But that's how it is
That's just how it is

My Husband Believes in God

My husband believes in God
He believes so strongly
He leads others
With his conviction

My husband believes in Jesus
He believes he is the savior
He believes we will be saved
He believes in Heaven
He believes in God

He believes in God
As a judge
As an observer
As an all-powerful deity
As the Creator of All

My husband believes in God

Would you like to know
What else he believes in?

He believes a slap across the fact
Is worth more than a conversation

He believes in switches
And tree limbs

He doesn't believe in hugging children
He thinks it makes them soft

He believes that he can take any verse in the Bible
And bend it
Like he bends that tree limb
And use it to suit his own needs
Much like that tree limb

He doesn't believe in laughter
Unless it's at another's expense

He doesn't believe in pleasurable sex
But he does believe in filthy sin
And he believes the two are the same
Despite his belief
That God gave us our bodies

He doesn't believe in family vacations
He doesn't believe in frank language
He doesn't believe in fidelity

Would you like to hear a joke?

He doesn't believe in fidelity
But he doesn't believe in divorce

Isn't that funny?

My husband believes in God
But he doesn't believe God sees anything he does
And is displeased

And even if he did believe that
Lucky for him
He believes in forgiveness

And when forgiveness doesn't work
He believes in self-hatred

And when he can't muster up hatred for himself
A problem handsome men often have
He just hates everybody else
Mostly the children and myself

That's what my husband believes in
And God

He believes in God

. . . . .

Now

Would you like to hear
What I believe in?

I believe in bullets
I believe in guns
I believe in fake I.D.'s
I believe in shelters
I believe in my brother in Seattle
I believe in my children's resilience

And I believe in forgiveness
And I believe in God

Just like my husband

I just happen to believe
That one of us
Is going to be standing before him
A lot sooner than the other

Come Across the Ocean

Come across the ocean
Dial my number
Say you're here

Just say you're here
And I'm there

Crawl up next to me
Feel protection
Sweep around you
Say you're here

Just say you're here
And I'm there

Catch up with me
Catch your breath
And know I'll turn the signs around
And make a closed door open
And I'll turn this thing around

Just say you're here
And I'm there

I'm picking up the shells
I'm playing in the sand
I'm making us a castle
I'm getting a nice new tan
I'm watching waves roll past me

And I'm waiting for you
To roll past me too

So come across the ocean
And say you're here
And I'm there

And a secret?

I'm already there

My best magic trick is--

I can make there
Here

There's a Reason They're An Ex

You ever hear anybody say

'Gee, I'd really like to revisit that tumor I had two years ago?'

No

So why would you want to
Revisit your relationship
With your ex?

Because you didn't closure?

You ever see a movie
That had an ending
You didn't like?

What did you do about it?

Nothing

Because it's a movie

People would be better off
If they treated their past relationships
Like movies with bad endings

There's a reason they're an ex

The only closure you need
Is the message the phone gives you
When you delete their number

You don't need to revisit
You don't need to recall
You don't need to rethink

You just need to get your ass out of the past
And head towards the future

Here, let me answer all the questions
Running into your ex has posed:

1) They're still the same person
2) They might be worse
3) The sex wasn't THAT good
4) Remember their mother
5) Remember the last name they called you the last time you saw them

There--happy?

Doesn't matter

Move on

There's a reason they're an ex

The Deal with God

If you give me another day
I'll give up eating bacon
Because I hear that's a no-no
In general
You just seem
To really dislike bacon

If you give me another day
I'll go on that rollercoaster this summer
And I'll savor the rushing air
And buy the photo they take of you
As your hair kidnaps your face
And you appear to be urinating in your pants
As the car you're in
Goes crashing over rickety wooden tracks

If you give me another day
I'll give up something I love
And face something I fear

If you give me another day
With her

If you give me another day
I'll sit and stare at her for hours
And capture every inch of her
Within my mind

I'll travel to the Vatican
And light a thousand candles
Thanking you
For those measly twenty-four hours

Which would be a bounty
To this betting man

I've slept next to this woman
For three years

I've held her throughout the calm nights
And through the pain
And through whole weekends
That passed
While she slept through drug-induced hazes

And now I know
That time is running out
And all I ask for
Is one more day

I don't care if it's a snowed in Monday
I don't care if it's a sun drenched Thursday
I don't care if it's a Friday night
When everyone else is out dancing
I'll sit and hold her
And bite the seconds
Chew them up in my mouth
Hoping I can stop them from passing
Even though that won't be the deal

The deal is a day
Anything for a day

And if you want to give me a day after that...

I'll take that too

And if you can't give me that
Then I don't know if you're there
And if you're not there
Then I don't see the point
In continuing to be any kind
Of a good person

So basically what I'm saying is--

Twenty four hours
To keep one more good person on this earth

I'm not asking for you to give her a lifetime
I know that wouldn't be fair
But another day

Another day
I think is fair

So tell me

Can we make a deal?

We Don't Believe in God

We can't say we believe in God
Because we don't
Some of us do
But 'we'
Collectively
Do not

. . . . .

Arthur and Elyse got into a fight
At a dinner
That should have had nothing to do
With God

Arthur had come home from school
On Christmas break
And Elyse and I had taken him out
To a nice restaurant
Along with Abby
Who was worried about her college applications
But consented to leaving her pile of essays alone
For an hour or two
To have a meal
With her family

It should be mentioned
That Elyse and I
Are very proud
Of our children

Extremely proud

But when Arthur brought up his Sociology class
And their discussion on God
Elyse instantly looked scorned

It was as if
She knew what was coming

'There I was in class--'

Arthur was saying

'--And it just occurred to me.'

'What,' Elyse asked, disdainfully. 'Occurred to you?'

Can't you hear it?
Can't you just HEAR the italics?

'Occurred'

'That I don't believe in God.'

I still took a bite of my steak
If I was upset, I suppose I wouldn't have
But I did
So I guess I wasn't that upset

Elyse, on the other hand
Threw down her napkin
And slammed the table with her hand

'You DO believe in God!'

Arthur looked shocked
Abby as well
Elyse is not the type to yell

'No, Mom, I don't.'
'You DO!'
'I DON'T!'

This is where I step in
Because I'm the father
Because that's my job

'It really doesn't matter, does it, Elyse?'

I wanted to remind her
That at his age
She and I didn't believe in many things

We didn't believe in justice
We didn't believe in cynicism
We didn't believe anything
Our parents told us

Not believing in something
Is something you do
When you're in college

To be honest
I would rather have Arthur disbelieve God
Than me or his mother

But Elyse was not having it

'Leonard, tell him he has to believe in God.'
'Tell him what?'
'Tell YOUR SON that he believes in God.'
'I can't tell him to believe in anything.'

Abby, seeing that her mother was losing this argument
Decided it was safe
To join in

'Mom, it's not a big deal. I don't believe in God either.'

This was the final straw

Elyse got up
And stormed out

Let me repeat

She stormed out
On her own family

So

We finished our meal
And when we got to the car
She was waiting for us
Sitting inside it
Arms crossed
Staring dead ahead

'Hey Arthur, would you like to drive your old man's car?'
'Not a chance, Dad.'

She was silent the entire way home
And when we pulled into the driveway
I'd barely stopped the car
When she went charging out of it
Into the house

Abby spoke up from the backseat

'Dad, can I stay at Mandy's tonight?'
'Absolutely not.'
'Why?'
'Because somebody needs to call 9-1-1 while I'm prying your mother off your brother.'

When we went inside the house
I could hear the shower running

Abby and Arthur went to their rooms
While I tentatively poked my head into the bathroom

Elyse was sitting down on the floor
On the bright white tiles
While the shower slowly filled the room
With steam

'Elyse, what are you doing?'
'This is very soothing.'
'Wouldn't it be more soothing in the shower?
'I don't feel like talking, Leonard.'
'Alright then.'

I waited for her in the bedroom
She walked in a half hour later
Still not looking showered

She sat down on the bed

'We should have sent him to Catholic school.'
'Elyse, nothing will turn someone into an atheist quicker than going to Catholic school.'
'We should have gone to church.'
'We had other things to do.'
'What else did we have to do all those years on Sunday mornings?'
'I believe the Bible says Sunday is a day of rest.'
'And?'
'And there is nothing restful about getting two small children in a dress and a tie at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning.'

I could see how upset Elyse was
And I had to remind myself to be comforting

Not because I'm not comforting
But because all this emotion
Was a shock to me

She'd never struck me
As a particularly religious person

And this was my wife
Wouldn't I know
If this was the sort of thing
That would upset her?

'Elyse, he's still a child.'
'He's our child and he doesn't believe in God.'
'That doesn't mean we failed as parents. Just that we failed as Catholics.'
'We failed to show our child that there is a omnipresent figure in the Universe that rules over all things.'
'Don't be silly. We took him to your mother's house plenty of times.'

She stood up
And glared at me

'I'm glad to see you think this is a joke!'
'Elyse, if you tell me to, I will go into Arthur's room and ORDER HIM to believe in God. I will do that. But you must realize that will not actually MAKE HIM believe in God. Even if he agrees to!'
'It would just be NICE to have us on the same page here. We're supposed to be on the same team. We're his parents!'
'He's nineteen years old! We have done all we can do. There's no need for us to still be a team!'

As soon as I said it
I regretted it

I hadn't meant it that way
But that's what it was

Words are sticky things

Elyse put her head down
And shook it lightly

'Abby is still our responsibility.'
'I wasn't saying--'
'And she doesn't believe either.'
'But you believe, Elyse. So what does it matter if they don't?'
'Because we're a FAMILY! It's not enough that I believe. I want US to believe. WE have to believe.'
'Well, WE DON'T, Elyse. I'm sorry, but WE DON'T.'

At that point
I had just gotten frustrated
Because I felt she was being silly

To be honest
I believe in God
But I believe in him
The way I believe in politics

Whatever it is
It's there
It's something
And believing in it
Or not believing in it
Or having opinions about it
Or whatever
Doesn't change the fact
That it is an issue

That's what I believe
I believe God is an issue

An issue I try to avoid fighting about
Because you wind up
Talking for hours
For nothing

I went out on the porch
And smoked one of my hidden cigarettes
The one I keep
In the cookie jar
We got for the kids
When they were small

Usually the idea
Of having to pull a cigarette
Out of Mickey Mouse's head
Is enough to get me to avoid smoking
But tonight even Mickey
Couldn't hold me back

When I came back into the house
Elyse was sitting in the living room
With Arthur and Abby on either side of her
And neither one of them was crying or bruised
So I assumed they were their voluntarily

'Uh...is...?'
'Mom wanted to show us these.'

Elyse was sitting with a photo album on her lap
Leafing through old family photos

'Arthur, this is where you threw up on Abby at Niagra Falls.'
'Mom, is there a reason for this?'

Elyse put her arm around Abby
Then around Arthur
Then motioned for me to sit down

'I wanted to show you all these because I want you to see why I believe in God. Because I have all this. An entire lifetime filled with good things.'

Arthur shook his head

'Mom, I don't disbelieve in God because I don't believe there's good things in the world. I just don't think believing in God and believing in goodness are the same thing.'
'To me, they are.'
'Well, to me, they aren't. But if it makes you feel any better, I may not believe in God, but I still believe in you.'

He kissed the top of her head
And went upstairs

Abby said--'Yeah, same thing'

And followed him up

I sat down next to my wife
And took her hand

'You've been smoking.'
'Damn.'
'I thought the photos would do it.'
'You thought you could convert atheists into pamphlet carriers by showing Arthur a photo of him covered in vomit standing next to a waterfall?'
'I thought I could show him family. What's God if it isn't the binding that connects a family?'

I could have said that I think the binding
Is guilt and tuition
But I didn't think that would go over well

Instead I put my arms around Elyse
And pressed my cheek up against hers
Like we were dancing
At a Havana nightclub

'Let's use some perspective here: The Millers across the street recently found out that their fifteen-year-old daughter is pregnant with her mother's personal trainer's baby. Their son just got a tattoo that says "Bitches Can Suck It." Our son and daughter just told us that they believe in us. I think we're doing alright.'

Elyse nodded, slowly
But still, nodding
Very good

'But we don't believe in God.'

I pulled my head back a little
And looked her in the eyes

'I think God needs us to believe in each other more than God needs us to believe in God."

She nodded again
And looked down at the photo album

'Abby used to have the rattiest hair.'
'I remember.'
'You've been hiding the cigarettes in the cookie jar, haven't you?'
'How did you know?'
'I put Oreos in there last week and when I went to have one it tasted like it had been in a pub on a Friday night.'
'Sorry.'

And I sat with my wife
And looked at photos
Of our family

And I believed

In what?

Who cares?

I believed

The College Tour Guide

Okay, so over here
Is where we strip down the freshman
Blindfold them
And make them find their way back
To the dorms

Oh and that's a bench
With a plaque
Dedicated to some old dead bitch
Named Ida

That's the library

If you go to the third floor history room
You can usually hook up with someone
You know, because they shove seven of us in a room
So you can never hook up in your room
Which sucks so hard

0kay, this is the Travers Building
Where the psych students get high
Then play mind games with each other

Next to that is Paulson Green
But we call it Last Night Lawn
Because that's where you usually wake up
When you're not sure what you did last night

That's Fraidley Hall
If you want to lose eight pounds go there
Because once you eat there
You wind up in the bathroom
For four days

I ate a pork chop there once
And I missed half a semester
And my kidney failed

That's the School for Education
Or the Bermuda Triangle
Since nobody can ever get an Education degree from here
In less than twelve years

Finally, we have the One-a-Day Parking Lot
Where one car gets vandalized a day

Sometimes we drive by
And take bets
Over which car
Is going to get its windshield smashed in

It's a lot of fun

That's pretty much all we do
Oh, and class
Sometimes we go to class

I'm not really sure where 'class' happens
Because I haven't really had time to go
Because I've been playing an epic game of freeze tag
For the past two years
But I'm sure there are classes all over the place

...Somewhere

So...

What other schools are you considering?

All the Movies That Are Worse Than Avatar

-- Hopefully this will be the last sarcastic thing I have to write in reference to Avatar...but it's pretty doubtful. --

"All the Movies That Are Worse Than Avatar"

Dude, Avatar was the best movie EVAH

Like, EVAH ever

So many other movie suck
Compared to the majesty
That is Avatar

There are movies
That I wouldn't even consider movies
After seeing Avatar

Watching Casablanca
Is like watching puppies get eaten
By a giant werewolf

Now that I have seen Avatar

Gone with the Wind is like a knock knock joke

Taxi Driver? Lame ass nonsense from Stupidtown

Schindler's List--SNOOZEFEST

Are people even going to bother making movies
Now that every theme and plot and character
Has been explored
All in one film?

Why bother, dude?

Why bother?

Huh?

Pocahontas?

No, never seen it

Is it good?

As good as Avatar?

Oh...

I should check it out then

Sounds like the best movie ever made

God in New York

I get the paella
When I'm here
It's amazing

Best paella in the world
And I should know

Joke, joke, joke

But it is
The best

I'm here for Dustin's graduation
He's this kid
I've known him since he was born

He was premature
Four pounds
Didn't know if he was going to make it

So I kind of...

Well, I'm not supposed to do that
I guess I can do whatever I want
But I don't like to give anybody any more help
Than anyone else

But I did

I gave him a little...

Extra help

And he made it

Then when he was eight
His Dad died
Cardiac arrest

He was thirty-four years old

I was...

It wasn't a good day

Then, when Dustin was twelve
His Mom got cancer
And after eighteen months
She was gone

He went to live with his aunt
His Mom's sister
Who's a really great woman
But...

One second

Sorry, I thought I heard something
I'm always hearing things
It's distracting
But I've learned to know when to listen
And when it's just noise

Anyway, uh--

Dustin ended up turning out great
He did very well in high school
And got into Fordham

Today--he is graduating

And I wanted to be here

I love New York
At this time of year

It's warm
It's exciting

Today I shared a cab with a woman
Who was having an affair
With her acupuncturist

She discussed it with me
At length

I meant to discourage her
But her husband
Is an absolute jerk

They say no man shall tear assunder
Who I have joined
But trust me
A priest may have joined that man with that woman
But I certainly had nothing to do with it

Now, Dustin...

I guess there have been a few times
Since he was born
When he got that extra...

Help

It feels like every time
I turn my attention elsewhere
Something bad happens to him

And there have been times
When I wonder if it's my fault
If me not keeping an eye on him
Is why bad things happen to him

I could say that's not how it works
But to be honest
I have no idea how it works

I only know how to help

So with Dustin...

I helped

I never gave him the answers to a pop quiz
But...

I may have made sure
That the guy looking over his application to Fordham
Was in a really, really good mood

I may have made sure
That immediately after his first college girlfriend broke up with him
She broke out into hives

Some might say...

...A plague of hives

I may have given him a few more sunny days
Than New York was supposed to have that February

I may have done a few things
I shouldn't have done

But you know...

They're just sunny days

Dustin wasn't the only one
Who benefitted from them

I can't imagine how a sunny day
Could ruin anyone's plans

. . . . .

He thanked me today

He got dressed
He brushed his teeth
He put on his cap and gown

And he thanked me

For helping him get this far

And I really didn't do that much

I guess...

I didn't...

I wasn't there
When his Dad died

There was this--

This earthquake in Nicaragua
And all these people were in pain
And I had to be there

And when I came back
His Dad was already gone

And I don't know
What I could have done
If I had been there

But maybe something?

You know?

Maybe something

And then with his Mom...

The poor kid, you know?

It was just so unfair
And his aunt blamed me
And I blamed myself
And Dustin just kept smiling
Smiling because he didn't want to upset anyone

And I wanted him to get mad at me
I really, really wanted him to get mad at me
Because I deserve it

Because I made all that is
And all that will ever be
And I really fucked up
In a lot of places

There are days
Where I have done
A really shitty job
And it is really evident

But today he said thank you

How did that happen?

So I came
Today
To New York

Which is nice

I've had some wine
Maybe a lot of wine
It's really good wine
After all

I've seen a show
A big splashy show

I went out last night
To this really dreadful bar
And got hit on

By a girl
Named Lala
Who will one day
Come up with a treatment
That would have saved
Dustin's mother

By then she will go back to her given name
Of Beth

Thankfully

Now time for a good old-fashioned graduation

I'm going to cry

I cry so much
It's embarrassing

At the littlest things

During big times of crises
I pull it together
Because everyone else has to cry
I don't really HAVE to cry

But in those little moments
When nobody's crying
I really tend to fall apart

When I see Dustin get that diploma
It's going to rain
It's really going to rain

I'll wait, obviously
Until tomorrow

I don't want to rain on his graduation

I'll wait until there's a parade

Joking, joking, joking

. . . . .

I used to talk to people
Now, I don't really
I don't

Not because I don't want to
But because...

If you talk, there are questions
Back in the old days
Nobody questioned

And if they did, you smote them

Well, I'm sort of past smoting now
I realized that was counter-productive

But I also stopped talking
I stopped...conversing

Because I still don't have the answers
To the questions they ask

And when they say 'Thank you'

I feel strange

I don't always feel
Like I should be thanked

Sometimes I feel...unworthy
Of gratitude

But today I look at Dustin
And I think of that little push
That little push I gave him
When he was four pounds
And nobody thought he was going to make it

And I look ahead
And I see all the great things he's going to do
And I'm glad I gave him the push

And if he, in some way
Feels that I'm the reason
He is where he is
Then I'm glad

I should get the check
I don't want to be late

Do you want to hear a secret?

I'm constantly late

That might explain a lot, I suppose

Do you want to hear another secret?

Sometimes when someone thanks me
When one of you thanks me, perhaps

Sometimes...

I say 'thank you' back

And it's not something you hear

It's just a sunny day
That's how you know
I'm thankful

Now if you'll excuse me
I gotta go see my kid graduate

It looks like it's going to be a really beautiful day