Calling the Show

Warning on--

What is she doing?

Why is she touching the lever?

Did I tell her to touch the lever?
Did the director tell her to touch the lever?
In the script does it say 'Open parentheses SHE TOUCHES LEVER Close parentheses?'

Is she improvising?

Why does she insist on improvising?

I love when actors improvise
It's like when puppies try to speak

Okay, well, regardless we're almost at--

Why is Brody eating the banana?

Didn't we specifically tell him not to eat a banana onstage?

Brody is incapable of eating anything onstage
Without choking

Offstage he can swallow a zebra
Like an African boa constrictor
But ask him to take a sip of water onstage
And suddenly one of the blue hairs
In the front row
Is doing the Heimlich maneuver on him
While Victoria improvises a monologue
About being raised by penguins
In the wilderness

Oh damn, go four, go four--no, never mind four
Warning on five

Where is Pete?
Is he still backstage?

Of course he didn't hear his cue line
Brody never says the cue line
Because he's too busy
Choking on his banana

STOP LAUGHING
THIS IS SERIOUS

Go five, someone get Pete
And replace all the real bananas
With plastic bananas

Oh what am I saying
I've seen Brody eat plastic pork chops before

Why is Victoria still talking?

I realize Pete is probably backstage
Building a cabin out of dental floss
And not listening for his cue
But can't she do something more productive
Than sit by the fake window
And pretend to look longingly at the ocean
THAT ISN'T REALLY THERE?!?!?

As soon as you put a window onstage
All the actors want to sit by it
To have their "moment"

Oh, I'd love to do this monologue by the window
It would be such a beautiful moment

I want to say 'What if you fell out the window?  That would be a moment.'
But I don't
Because I'm a good stage--

Wait, why is Victoria talking about
World War Two?

The play takes place in World War One!

WORLD WAR TWO HASN'T HAPPENED YET!

She's going on and on about her lost love
Who died in Tennessee
During World War Two

THEY DIDN'T FIGHT WORLD WAR TWO IN TENNESSEE
YOU IDIOT!

Quick!  Someone push her out the window

Ugh, fine

Warning on somebody pushing Victoria out the window
Go push Victoria out the window

Why is Brody turning blue?

Gum?!?!?!?

Who gave him gum?

And where is Pete?

There is no more cue line!  The cue lines are dead!
All the lines are dead!
The script has been burned and the ashes have been scattered.

This isn't about art anymore
This is about survival!

Warning on Code Red!
Go Code Red!

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd...

Intermission

Great, well...

See you all in ten

Tony Hooper, Super Ventriloquist

"Hello Everybody!  My name is Tony Hooper, and this is my friend Mikey--"
"Mikhail."
"(Harry...)"
"(We agreed on Mikhail.  You said I could be a Russian like in Three Sisters.)"
"(I told Mom you were watching too much PBS.)"
"(Stop arguing.  You're making me break character.)"
"(Fine!)  So Mike--uh--Mikhail, how are things on the...farm?"
"Estate."
"--estate--in...Russia?"
"Oh, but if thou knew the turmoil that plagues my soul."
"...(What was that?!?!)"
"(I'm speaking in iambic pentameter.)"
"(Why...?)"
"(I want to challenge myself as a thespian.)"
"(Why don't you try not being crazy?  That would be a challenge.)"
"(First of all, you're the one who wanted me to do this.  That's my first of all.)"
"(First of all, you're the one who wanted a way into the talent show after they told you that you couldn't juggle fire.  That's MY first of all.)"
"(Second of all, that fire trick got me on America's Most Adorable Daredevils.)"
"(Second of all, I don't know what Bambi Pentacost is, but it sounds like something only stupid people know about.)"
"(Tre--)"
"(What about a tree?)"
"(Tre is the Swedish word for three.)"
"(Why would you--)"
"Sayeth my good friend Tony--"
"Aw man..."
"Dost thou have a wench?  Perhaps I should acquire her?"
"Are you trying to say 'Take my wife--please?'"
"Another pair of hands can always be used on the estate.  Winter shall come soon.  And it shall be so cold.  Papa's hands may freeze again as they did last winter.  And the hogs will need tending to especially if the mother births again as she did--"
"STOP STOP STOP!  I will not have you turn this into some kitchen sink drama!"
"What's a kitchen sink drama?"
"It's when you're watching a play and it's so bad you wish you were home doing dishes instead."
"That's pretty bad."
"This is worse.  Let's just forget this whole act.  I work better alone.  My teacher always says I'm the Phil Collins of the fourth grade."
"Who's Phil Collins?"
"This fifth grade who doesn't like doing group work."
"Come on, Tony, give me one more chance."
"Harry--"
"Please!  Otherwise you'll have to get Fat Pants to be your ventriloquist dummy, and all he knows are knock knock jokes about devil dogs."
"Ugh, fine.  (Clears throat.)  So...Mikhail...how are things in Glasgow?"
"Moscow."
"Whatever."
"The milk is bad."
"How bad is it?"
"It's so bad as soon as we put it in the cereal, my Frosted Flakes started naming names."
"You come from such a tough family."
"Yes, my family is very tough.  My grandmother is ninety-seven, and my family cherishes her.  Of course, she did just fall ill last month."
"I'm so sorry.  Is she feeling any better?"
"Much better--now that my mother's let her out of the refrigerator."
"And how is your father?"
"He beats me everyday with his shepherd's crook."
"That's awful!"
"You should see what he does when I misbehave!"
"(Harry, let's get offstage before it's too late.)"
"(I think Mrs. Brugel likes us.  She's waving at me.)"
"(She's waving at the guy who closes the curtain.  Get up and take a bow.)"
"(It was nice working with you, Tony.)"
"(You too, Mikhail.  L'chaim.)"
"(Gesundheit.)"
"(Ugh.)"

Sigourney Weaver and Geena Davis Plan Thanksgiving

"Sigourney?"
"Yes, Geenie?"
"What is it you do for Thanksgiving?"
"Well, we sit down at a table made entirely of the awards I've won--"
"I didn't realize you'd won--"
"--And then we go around and talk about all the films I've done that have brought such joy to the hearts of the poor.  Films like Beetlejuice--"
"--that was me--"
"--Hero--"
"--that was me--"
"--Nell--"
"--that was Jodie Foster--"
"--The Banger Sisters--"
"--that was either Goldie Hawn or Susan Sarrandon--"
"--and The Lady Eve."
"I've never seen that, but I'm almost positive you weren't in it."
"And we all just hold hands--"
"You let people touch you?"
"Well I look at them holding hands while I hold my Oscar."
"You never won an Oscar."
"While I hold a picture of the Oscar that you won."
"That's more like it."
"And we all just feel so grateful."
"Well, how could you not?"
"How could I?"
"How could you?"
"How could I?"
"How could you?"
"How could I?"
"Well--"
"Yes?"
"I suppose--"
"Yes?"
"That if you had an ACTUAL Oscar--"
"Oh."
"--Like the one I have."
"Stole."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"I was just saying--"
"You know who's coming to my house this year for Thanksgiving?"
"One of the apes from Gorillas in the Mist?"
"Is that a movie?"
"Yes, Sigourney."
"I've never seen it."
"You were in it."
"That's probably why I've never seen it.  I don't believe in watching myself on film.  The Indians believe that if you watch yourself on film, your innards will turn into sherbert."
"What Indians believe that?"
"Did I say Indians?  I mean Indianans.  People from Indiana believe it.  I'm very big in Indiana."
"I'm big in North Dakota."
"I'm big in South Dakota."
"YOU'RE A FILTHY LIAR!"

. . . . .

"Anyway, back to the guest list.  Guess who's coming to my house for Thanksgiving?"
"You're like a talking ice sculpture."
"Marissa Tomei!"
"Why is SHE going to your house?"
"Ohhh just because..."
"I see."
"Guess who ELSE is coming to my house for Thanksgiving?"
"Who?"
"Marcia Gay Harden."
"I see."
"And Juliette Binoche.  And Renee Zellwegger.  And James Coburn."
"James Coburn has been dead for nine years."
"--Well, he'll be there in spirit."
"And why did you invite that random assortment of people?"
"Oh, I don't know.  It just sort of happened that way."
"Is it because ALL of them won Oscars they didn't deserve?"
"Why that's--oh my--oh I suppose they did."
"I hate you."
"Say Geenie--"
"You're like a whistling pork chop."
"Would YOU like to come to my house for Thanksgiving?"
"Don't say it, Gourney."
"I'm sure you'll feel RIGHT at home."
"I AM A MENSA MEMBER!  YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TALK TO ME LIKE..."

. . . . .

"My, that temper on you, Geenie.  It's most unbecoming."
"I wish that alien queen had eaten you."
"Even though we're part of a cold, celebrity culture, we must still be ladies."
"I wish she had eaten that little lesbian you pretended was your daughter."
"HER NAME WAS NEWT!"
"Newt, iguana, I don't care what sorts of pets you've had.  The point is, I want you at my house for Thanksgiving so that I can give thanks that I'm still working...when so many others...are not."
"And I'd like to give thanks that every time I enter a room, people must announce me as Academy Award Winner Geena Davis...who is also so smart she knows eighteen different ways to kill a woman and make sure the body is never found..."
"Oh my."
"Yes."
"My."
"Yes."
"Mmm."
"Yes."

. . . . .

"Perhaps I won't do Thanksgiving at my house this year."
"Oh Gourney!"
"No, I must start preparing for Christmas a little bit earlier than usual.  I'm having the entire cast of Avatar over for a little reunion.  Just like last year when I had the cast of The Accidental Tourist over for Easter."
"You weren't in the--oh never mind."
"Oh Geenie, you're like a little IMBD.  What would I ever do without you?"
"Eat your own hair?"
"What was that?"
"Oh nothing.  Nothing at all."

Thorns

Can you see the parts
Where the pins went in?

Where the red popped up
Where the blue set in?

Can you look and tell
How we used to be

Can you see all the shadow
And the light
And the red

Can you see hands on shoulders
Saying support
Saying comfort
Saying lean
Lean forward
Lean away

I'll catch you, they say
I'll catch you, so go

See where we went
See the postcards
The postage stamps
The stickers on luggage
Saying 'We're traveled'

'We saw the world
And the world was good'

Do you see our aching smiles
Our burning eyes
Opening wider and wider
Trying to see
How long we can go
Before we have to close
And hope everything's still there
When we open them again


How wide can yours go?
How long can you hold it?
Before you let go
Or shut down
Or pass out

Did you take a look?
Did you?

Was it good?
Well it was

Depending on
Where you look

So where are you looking?

At the rose
Or the thorns?

Raj's Smoke Break

I told the man ten times
Told him again, and again, and again
You gotta let me handle the bad customers
You ain't equipped, I says
You ain't good with the bad ones
But he a manager
He a smart man
He got pieces of paper with medals on it
Saying how he's able
Saying how he's equipped

So I let him do what he do
None of my business
None of my concern
Let him handle it then
Don't bother me at all

But then that costumer
Start calling him names
And I get bristly
But I don't say nothin' at first

Just keep counting our my drawer
Because he wants to handle the bad customers
Even though I know sometimes they got knives
And sometimes they got worse than knives
And if you act like you scared
They'll come back everyday
Just to remind themselves
There's someone in the world
Who's afraid of them

I tried telling him that
But he still using corporate bullshit on them
Smiles and happy time
Thinking that's what people want

The man, my boss
He a good man
But he didn't grow up
In this neighborhood

He don't know that when someone show you their first
They ain't looking to get smiled at
They want to compare fingers
They want to see how big yours is
Compared to theirs

And I got big fingers
So I ain't scared
To show 'em mine

But the boss
He's got little hands
All soft and white
Like some kinda poet

When that man start yelling at him
And calling him names
I finish counting my drawer like I'm supposed to
But then I hear him call my boss a name I don't like
A real bad name

My boss' face gets red
And his lips go blue
And his hands get even smaller

That's when I close my drawer
Walk over to the man
Grab him by the back of the shirt
And bring him right out to the street
Where the cars are going by

I stand there with him in traffic
Hearing him say 'Whatcha doin' man?  You're crazy!'

And I'm saying 'Hell yeah, I'm crazy.'
Because crazy makes your fists big
Because crazy makes your balls big
Because crazy makes you hard
So hard, you can stand in traffic
And if a car hits you
It'll flip right over you

Like in the superhero movies

'Something tells me,' I said to the man with the bad names
'That you ain't as crazy as I am'

After a few cars swerved around us
The man with the bad names
Forgot how tough he thought he was
And started telling me his prayers

When I heard one I liked
I let him go

I knew when I got back to the store
I was going to hear it

Maybe go home for the day
Maybe stay there for a week
Maybe clean out my locker
And not come back

Because a customer's a customer
Even one with bad names
And old prayers
That don't show up on them
Until you rub the guy down a little bit
Like silverware

But before my boss could say anything
I told him I was taking a break
Just a quick smoke break
Then we could talk

He said 'Okay'
And from the way he looked at me
I had a feeling
I'd be fired
Not because of what I did
But because he was embarrassed
That I had to be the one to do it

I told him he should let me handle the bad customers

But the truth is they're all bad

They're bad, we're bad
And sometimes it's just a game
To see who can be bad first and worst
And walk out on top

That's why I'm out here now

On my corner
Outside the store
Watching the traffic
Go back to normal

Because out here
On break
With a smoke
And a can of Pepsi
I'm on top

Out here
I'm not any smarter
But at least nobody bothers me

At least out here
I don't have to prove nothin'

The Crazy Women Stick Together

M. let her daughter get a tattoo
Even though she's only sixteen
And the crazy women complain
That this will inevitably lead her
Towards a life of prostitution

C. baked chocolate brownies with nuts in them
For the school bake sale and bazaar
Even though some kids--
(Some meaning none, because none--NONE--at the school have an allergy to nuts)
--Are allergic

J. took her kids to a rated-R movie
Completely ignoring the warnings of sex and violence
Dismissing the carefully crafted ratings system
Put together by people much smarter than J.
The crazy women tsk tsk her discretely

Tsk tsk tsk

L. allows her children to swear
Only in the house, but still
To swear!
She says it's not a big deal
Not a big deal!

Cluck cluck cluck
Tsk tsk tsk

The crazy women read parenting magazines
They watch news reports about gluten and pedophiles and child safety locks
They are not 'I's, they are 'We's
They say to their children 'We do this' and 'We do NOT do that'
They carry carrot sticks in plastic baggies in their purses

The crazy women cross-comment with each other
In online public forums
About various issues
They feel are pertinent
Like how other people raise their children

When they come across anything
They feel threatened
And like a pack of wild animals
They surround
Then pounce

T.'s children caught lice somehow, despite the cleanliness of T's home
Her children gave it to other children in the class
And T. was ostracized forever
Put on a proverbial iceberg
And set adrift

The crazy women believe in God
Their husbands, their husband's helplessness
Rachel Ray, Germophobia, Xenophobia
Organic oatmeal, mirroring, time out corners
And comprehensive supervision at all times

The crazy women stick together
They sit around and look at each other
And say--'Am I crazy?  Do I look crazy?
Here's what I'm doing.  Is that crazy?'
And the other crazy women say

'No, not at all!'

And everyone feels better

And outside the children play on the lawn
Wondering when they'll get
To come back inside

The Dysentery Was Worse Than the Cholera

Well, I'll tell you something, Marie

The dysentery was worse than the cholera

You wouldn't believe it

But it's the god's honest--

Oh, well, with dysentery--

Oh, Marie, you don't want to hear about all that

Not while we're eating

I don't like to complain anyway

Not when all the people there

Have it so much worse

I mean George and I were there for--what?

Two weeks?  Two and a half?

More than most people

Obviously

Some people would never even consider going

Most of our friends thought we were nuts

Skipping a second honeymoon

To go to a Third World country

And be of service

But I told everyone my first honeymoon was for me

The second one should be for somebody else

We sent postcards back to everyone we knew

You got one, didn't you?

Of me holding the starving baby?

Wasn't that devastating, Marie?

I mean, it breaks your heart, doesn't it?

These people are just icons of suffering

It really tears at you

It does

George was really impacted by the whole thing

If it was up to him

We'd still be there

Building villages, coming up with irrigation plans

But I said, 'George, we've done what we can do'

Because sometimes, that's what you have to tell yourself

'I've done what I can.  I've done all I can do.'

And again, more than most

Much more than most

Some people go their whole lives

Never even thinking about helping others

So the fact that we went out of our way like that

To help those poor people

Well, it fills my heart

It really does

And it helps you appreciate all you have

That's why I sent out that e-mail

With all the details of our trip

Minus the dysentery and the cholera, of course

Because I want more people doing what we did

And I'm sure if they heard about that, they wouldn't go

They'd use that as an excuse

When, really, it was a very fluke-y thing

I just thought it was important

For everybody to know

That George and I were doing something good

With our time and money

You know, some people say you should do those things quietly

Do them in secret

You know, because that's what makes you a--

What?

A Good Samaritan, or something?

I don't know the term

Anyway, they say to do it discretely

But you know, I don't know how you're supposed to inspire people

To follow suit

If you don't show them

You have to show them, Marie

Otherwise how will they know

Who it is they should be emulating?

That's what George and I believe, anyway

What's that?

Going back?

Oh Marie, I mean

Well, obviously

Not anytime soon

At least I won't be

George--

Well, you know, he's a matyr

He's just such a matyr

Of course he was affected by the suffering

He'd never seen suffering before

I've seen it, Marie

I've EXPERIENCED it

Comparatively, of cousre

I mean, in comparison

Everything's relative, you know

No, I think I've done my part, Marie

And I feel good about that

I really do

Sully the Cat and the New Baby

The owners had a kitten
Which is nice
You know, for them

I decided a long time ago
That having kittens wasn't for me

My parents were divorced
And it had a really big impact on my psyche

But I'm happy for the owners
Even though we had to have a discussion
About my scratching room now being turned into a nursery

I understand that kittens need somewhere
To sleep and play and vomit
But my scratching time
Is precious to me

It's my eighth birthday next month
And when you get older
You cherish these little routines

The owners may have made the decision
To have their lives disrupted
But I didn't

They've already completely thrown off
My feeding schedule

I used to get fed every day
At seven fifteen
And now I get feed at seven thirty
Because the kitten has to eat first

One day I'm just going to die of starvation
And nobody will even notice
Because the kitten will be doing something fascinating
Like swallowing its own drool
Or discovering that it has elbows

Human kittens are allowed to be much stupider
Than regular kittens

When I was two weeks old
I was expected to walk, bathe myself
And hide my own excrement using nothing but gray sand

The lady owner's mother suggested
That I should be kept away from the kitten
As I might, quote 'bite it'

Bite it?

Do I look like some sort of
In-bred iguana?

I felt like telling her
That her grandson is so fat
Biting him
Would put me off my diet
But I spit up on her foot instead

Sometimes actions
Speak louder than words

Not that the kitten and I
Don't have our moments

Sometimes the owners put him on the floor
And he runs his little hand
Along my stomach

Then I purr
And he claps his hands together
Like I've done a magic trick

And in that moment
I can understand what the little guy's parents
See in him

When someone is so innocent
That even an old cat like me
Can inspire wonder and joy
It is sort of amazing

So I guess I'll accept
That I'm going to have to take part
In helping to raise the kitten

After hearing all the oohing and ahhing
His parents are constantly bombarding him with
It's pretty evident that I'm going to have to be the one
Who teaches him
How to talk

Wishes in a Fountain

Down at the bottom of the fountain
Abraham Lincoln
Wishes for civility

He sees the kids push and shove
To throw their wishes in
And he, himself
Wishes they'd take turns
Form an orderly line
Tuck in their shirts
And speak up

More than anything, speak up

The boy with the black eye
Throws a nickel in
And asks for transparency

Although he's not sure
That's the correct word for it

He wants to walk through things
Instead of into them

His teachers at school even sent a social worker to his house
Disbelieving that any child could be so clumsy
But when his father answered the door in a wheelchair
The social worker pretended to be a traveling salesman
And after failing to sell the boy's father life insurance
Excused himself and threw the paperwork into the nearest trashcan

The boy with the black eye
Sort of wished he was being beaten up

That would be less embarrassing
Than the fact that he never notices tangible things
Until one of those things smacks him right in the eye

Another little boy wishes for a coat with buttons
Instead of a zipper

He has nightmares about zippers
Where his mother zips him up too fast
And slices his head right off

He yearns for one of those coats
With the big buttons
That look like smiling faces
Happy to keep you in your coat
Without threatening your life

A little girl roller skates by
And drops a quarter in the fountain
Leading Abraham to believe
That she must want something substantial

In fact, all she wants is a pet turtle
Because her birthday is coming up
And no matter how hard her mother tries
To figure out what it is she wants
The little roller skating girl refuses to tell her
Because she wants to be surprised

And so, she will receive eight dresses
Seventeen dolls
Three goldfish
And a kitten named Tugs
But she will not receive a turtle

The fountain does not feel bad about this
Nor does it refund her quarter

Because a coin in a fountain
Is merely a deposit

Determination is required
To complete any wishful transaction

And though Abraham can understand
Wanting to be surprised on one's birthday
He also believes that when turtles are involved
It's best to be direct

An old woman sits down at the fountain
And tosses a penny in
That lands right next to Abraham
And he likes having the company of himself
Even though it's an older penny
Without any of the shine

When the old woman wishes
For a little more sun that day
Abraham asks the fountain
To grant her wish

And so a little more sun comes out
And the girl on roller skates
Goes right by the pond
Where, in two months
She'll come across a little turtle
In need of a home

And in twenty years
The little boy afraid of zippers
Will grow up to design beautiful coats
With big, bold buttons

And in a hundred years
The little boy with the black eye
Will pass away quietly
In his bed

Only to find himself
As a little boy once again
Coming up out of the center
Of a wishing fountain

Throwing all the coins up in the air
Only to see them suspend there
Like floating rain

He'll walk through trees
And buildings
And memories

Still not sure of the correct word
For what it is
He wants

The Least Amount of Damage You Could Do in the Role

Kendall, you seem to be a little confused

About how you wound up

With your role

You got that role

Because we decided

We, meaning, the Artistic Team

Meaning myself

And Mr. Burke the Shop Teacher

Who builds the sets

That this particular role

Offers you few opportunities

To destroy the production

It doesn’t involve speaking

Excessive movement

Depth

Poise

Presence

Or anything that could be considered

Skill

Giving you this role

Was a little bit

Like putting a kitten

In a box filled with pillows

This way, you can go on looking adorable

And not injure yourself

Or fall off a high surface

Or get eaten by larger actors—animals—oh whatever

Same difference

The fact that you think

You should have gotten a better role

Not only seems laughable

But somewhat ungrateful

Kendall, that would be like the last person off the Titanic

Complaining that she didn’t get to finish her dessert

Consider yourself lucky

You SURVIVED, Kendall

Many did not

All right, well, not MANY

But some

Some didn’t survive

That sister of yours

Who has all the dramatic flair

Of a pine cone

She was left at the bottom of the theatrical ocean

So to speak

And you were given

The opportunity

To float

So float, Kendall

And float with pride

It’s true you won’t be doing much

But you’d be surprised

How many people in theater

Have made a career for themselves

Doing even less

Napping

I am five

I am a boy

I am talking

I am talking about napping

Napping are…is…

Ugh

I am five

I am a boy

I am talking

I am talking about napping

Napping is the worst thing ever in the world

Napping was invented

By mean people

To stop kids from having fun

Even when they’re in the middle

Of a game of tag

And they’re not It

For, like, the first time in forever

And then everything has to stop

Because it’s naptime

Even though sometimes kids can be too old to nap

Like when they are five or twenty-six or a hundred

But my grandma is like a hundred and she naps all the time

So maybe not but that’s because she wants to

And so napping should just be if you’re a hundred

And you have nothing else to do

Like no tag games to play

Or bugs in jars to put in some girl’s lunchbox

…or something

When you nap

Your nose hair grows really long

And then you have to cut it off

Using special nose hair scissors

And this is gross

And nobody likes you

Until your nose is hair-free

Sometimes my Mom naps

Then she wakes up

And thinks it’s midnight

And tries to get me to go to bed

Even though it’s breakfast time

And I have to go to kindergarten

But sometimes I say ‘Okay’

Because I’m still tired

And she looks scary

With her hair all up and stuff

When she gets out of bed

My mother tells me not to talk about

What her hair looks like after she’s been napping

But sometimes when you talk

You talk about stuff

That makes people mad

And that’s called

Ohwelltoobadlifestough

That’s what my grandma says anyway

When she’s not napping

I like when my grandma’s awake

But my mom says she thinks my grandma should nap more

And I should too

If it were up to my mom

The whole world would just be one big napping place

And then nothing fun would happen ever

That’s why somebody should stop all naps forever

Starting…tomorrow

Because right now

It’s my bedtime

Boys who are five and talking

Have to stop talking

And go to bed

That’s what my mom says

Gee, it’s like if you’re not losing one battle

You’re losing another

The Night Katie Went to Newport

The night Katie went to Newport

The bridge was closed down

For fear that too many of the land dwellers

Would try to escape

For one last summer evening

Away from the city buildings

And the cement sidewalks

Leading only to dry bars

And clubs where people were waiting

For other people to dance

Katie made it across the bridge

Just as the last car was being stopped

And instructed

To go back, back, back

She stuck her head out the window

And let the luck

Run through her hair

Then she instructed her driver

To find a dive bar

With a lobster on its roof

And Bruce Springsteen

Ringing through

The rafters

When they found the bar

Katie jumped out

And past the doorman

Who sort of thought he maybe kinda

Knew who she was anyway

She was in a recognizable mood that night

It took until midnight

Before the dive bar’s lobster

Came down off the roof

To crawl back into the ocean

And head for a warmer climate

Katie was inside leading a sing-a-long

To the collected hits

Of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young

Wearing a fedora

And demanding that everyone call her Regina

Her driver finally convinced her

To head home

Sometime around three

But by then

The streets all led to each other

And the bridge was fast asleep

Katie and her driver

Walked the cobblestones

And saluted the ghosts

Of ancient wealth

And prosperity

We don’t have ghosts like you in Providence

Katie explained to them

Then snapped her photo

Next to a Civil War soldier

And a boating heiress

The last thing she remembered

Was running towards the ocean

In a long, flowing evening gown

That someone must have put on her

When she complained about the sea air

Sneaking in through the cracks

Of the walls

Of the dive bar

She leapt head-first into the water

And was caught by the lobster

Who had decided that a few more nights in Newport

Couldn’t hurt, could they?

And as she was carried back to the mainland

Katie thought to herself

Such a lovely night

And what a pity, thought the lobster

Continuing her train of thought

As Katie took a deep enough breath

To sustain her

On the ride back to Providence

Her driver watched the lobster

Carry Katie away

From the safety

Of the shore

He even considered waving to them

But instead, he found an all-night ice cream shop

And watched the morning arrive

With a vanilla cone

And almond toppings

And under the moon, the lobster swam

Swam and thought--

What a pity

Keeping Katie a few inches

Above the water

At all times

What a pity

She won’t remember this

At all

What the Hell Happened to Your Mustache?

What the hell happened to your mustache?

Vincent, I am not dating you

For your sparkling personality

Your bubbly sense of humor

Or your stalwart intelligence

I am dating you

For your mustache

Did you not read

Teen Time Magazine this month?

Of course you didn’t

You’re a boy

All you’re concerned with

Are paintball tournaments

And burping in four-part harmony

That’s why you’re not aware

Of the cover of Teen Time this month

Holden Henderson from ‘Deep River’

Looking sultry and sensual

WITH a mustache!

Now everyone wants a boy with a mustache

And since you were the only boy in the school

Who wasn’t shaving his

I ran straight to your house

To snatch you up

Before Melanie Hurlington

Got to you first

And I do

Then I come into school today

And what do I find?

A CLEAN-SHAVEN FACE!

This is the worst kind of betrayal, Vincent

We had something better than a relationship

Something stronger than love or affection

We had a DEAL!

Now what am I supposed to do with you?

Grow back?

That’s the most you can say for yourself?

It’ll grow back?

That’s all well and good

But what am I supposed to do until then?

Go on dating you

For absolutely no reason?

I’ll have you know

That all of my boyfriends

Up until now

Have been closeted gay men

And if you think you’re going to destroy my record

You are sorely mistaken

By the time that mustache of yours grows back

Other boys will have mustaches

Melanie just announced on Facebook

That she’s dating Timothy Tinneman

And he already has a five o’clock shadow

In his latest default pic!

She must be feeding him hair growth enzymes

Maybe I could go on google and buy some from India then--

Oh why bother?

By the time they get here

Mustaches will probably be out of style

And then all I’ll have is a dumb straight boyfriend

Who looks like the cover of a Hall and Oates album

Hall and Oates?

Oh I don’t know

My Mom has their lunchbox

Displayed on our mantle

Next to my grandfather’s ashes

Yes, you can hold my hand, Vincent

But I’m only going to allow this for today

Because tomorrow we’re breaking up

And I’m starting a rumor

That Melanie let Timothy touch her boob

During Homeroom

That oughta put me back on top

At least until they release the pictures

From Spring Fashion Week

I hear guys with missing teeth

Are going to be the new It accessory

If that’s true

Then I’m going to need to talk to your brother, Vincent

Hey

At least I’m keeping it in the family

The Other Side of Pain

On the other side of pain
We have fried eggs
And good poetry
And long anecdotes
And misplaced apologies
And Saturn rings
And dog collars
And blue buckles
And tan pants
And arugula

On the other side of pain
We paint fences
And dance waltzes
And tread lightly
And speak softly
And cry sonnets
And sing sweat
And sculpt water
And forget everything

On the other side of pain
There is hindsight
And insight
And bright sight
And night lights
And nightmares
And flash floods
And head games
And good dreams
And bad decisions

On the other side of pain
There are petting zoos
And llama farms
And houses that have board game nights
And families decorating Christmas trees
And scrapbooking grandmas
And barbecuing every Sunday

On the other side of pain
Are black and white photographs
And polyester disco suits
And dynamite boxes packed up in the garage
And a fake totem pole bought on the way to the Grand Canyon
And a guy named Mike who happens to be a really nice guy

On the other side of pain
There are dump trucks
The toy kind
And the real kind
And aside from size
How would one know the difference?

On the other side of pain
Is a quote from a book
Stole and sealed
In something that resembles
A half-decent poem

On the other side of pain
There is a morning
Overflowing

With
Forgiveness

And a bruise
And a wound
And a cut
And a scrape
And a deep deep deep hurt

That can now
Begin

To heal

The 5 Second Rule

I'm sorry, what did you just say?

The 5 Second Rule?

Did you just invoke the 5 Second Rule
To make it okay for you
To eat that macaroon
Right off the floor?

The dirty, disgusting, vile floor?

Yes, I realize it's tile
What's your point?

WHAT'S YOUR POINT?

Do you know what's happened
In the 5 seconds
Since that macaroon
Hit the floor?

Do you realize that bacteria
Moves and grows faster
Than humans do?

Oh sure, to the naked eye
That macaroon
Is totally fine

But what you didn't see
In the 5 seconds
That it was on the floor
Are all the germs
Rushing to inhabit it

Excited at the prospect
Of new terrain

They set up little germ huts
And yurts
And adobe huts

They developed farming
And irrigation
And a tribal hierarchy

They reproduced
And pretty soon
They had a tiny germ village
With a tiny germ train
That could bring them all over the giant new world
Known as the Macaroon

The village grew into a city
And the city became a metropolis
And pretty soon there was germ culture

Germ opera houses
Germ theaters
Germ performance art installation

And then, centuries later
When the germs are erecting statues
Of those first few germs
That were brave enough
To crawl up off the floor
And onto the Macaroon
And begin a new civilization

Suddenly, a hand picks up that macaroon
And eats it
Saying--

'5 Second Rule'

And, not only do you ingest a bacteria-ridden dustball
Though, yes, it was once a tasty treat

You also destroy an entire way of life
And show that you have no concept
Of the flexibility of time

So I hope you're happy with yourself

I hope that macaroon went down
Reaallllll smooth

I hope it was
Delicious

What's that?

Feeling sick

Huh

Aren't we all?

Refrigerator Paranoia

There is duck sauce
In the freezer

There is tapioca pudding
And bread
And milk
And eggs
And ostrich testicles

There is something calling me
Calling out to me
To come
To come to the refrigerator

It wants to be clean
The fridge, it desires
It yearns

To be stainless
Like how its outsides used to be
Before the magnets
Stuck crude drawings
And school calendars
To its glossy surface

It wants to be emptied

A simple enough task
It would seem

Just eat the yogurt
Drink the orange juice
Peel the apple
And leave nothing but the seeds

But then you see the duck sauce
And think, Where did it come from?

When have you ever bought or stolen
Duck sauce?

Could someone else have put it in there?
Your child perhaps?

You go into her bedroom
But you will not wake her

She has school tomorrow

Of course you won't bother her
With inquiries
About mysterious sauces

Instead you return to the fridge
And guzzle down the duck sauce
Like fine wine

But then there is the bread
The Italian bread
The goat's milk
The penguin eggs
The testicles

You take in food
And more appears

Behind cartons
And containers

The frozen tapioca goes down
Especially hard

Endless gluttony
Awaiting you
And every time you try to stop
You hear the begging
Of the fridge

And what happens if you don't satisfy it?

What happens if you leave it full like this?

No wonder it's complaining

How heavy it must feel

It must feel like you do
All the time
With all this extra stuff
Inside you

You already feel that way
The fridge shouldn't have to hold
Your burden as well

This is your food, isn't it?
Isn't it?

It's in your fridge
After all

So you eat and you eat

And when you can't eat
You begin pulling things out
And putting them on the floor
And on the counters
And on the rug of the living room
Next to the kitchen

Frosting and crackers
And chips and chunks of butter
Begin filling up your house

You keep it out of your daughter's room
But your bedroom is not so lucky

Soon you are pushed back against your own pillows
Desperately trying to suck down some marshmallows
Before they suffocate you

When you wake up
You are in front of the open fridge
The light inside still beaming bright

Nothing in front of you
But a half-eaten yogurt carton

You slide your finger along the inside
And lick the remaining fake fruit off the bottom
Of the cup

Then you return to bed

You tell yourself
That the fridge is happy
That it will be quiet now

You hear it hum
And tell yourself
It's the same
As a cat purring
Happily

But as you drift off to sleep
The humming grows louder and louder
And down the hall from your room
Another door opens

And a little girl
Peaks her out
And wanders into the kitchen
To see what could be making
All that noise

Brady's Brand New Providence

A ride down Smith Street
With someone in his passenger seat
Who looks just like the girl
That broke his heart

A pop song plays on the radio
And it seems to have a brand new depth
Which lets him know
He's gone too far
He's let a girl in much too deep

The girl who looks like the Capital-G Girl but isn't
Sings along with him
While he goes past the mall
And contemplates buying
Elaborate things
That he doesn't need
Like kitchenware
And new jeans
And an umbrella that will cover up to sixteen people
If he needs it to

He sees the State House lit up
And thinks maybe he'll run for office
Make laws from a safe office
Where he'll be sheltered
By assistants
And purpose
And fundraisers in ballrooms
Where he'll promise boys just like him
That girls like her
Will be jailed
And never terrorize
Another hopeless soul

The city looks like Providence
And Brady dreams of leaving it

Going to another brand new Providence
Where he could have his good stuff
Without his bad stuff

Where he could have his East Side
And his Thayer Street tea
And his Wickenden sushi
And his tacky tourist-y Waterfire
And his fucking memories
Removed from her tentacles
That fucking heart-eating octopus
That stole his heart and his city
And what his city means to him

Moving was something
That would have to be done
Because there could be no moving
Within

Not within the three blocks
That comprise Brady's Providence

The lower-case girl next to him
Says 'Brady, drive'
And he drives

He drives right into a new downtown
To a loft in a building
He's never seen

With a fresh sidewalk
And people with adorable dogs
And a block party

He gets out of his car
And he's welcomed
Like a returning soldier

The lower-case girl says--

'Brady, there is a lot of life to be had in three small blocks'

And she is right

So Brady begins a new life
In an old place

And when it's time for him
To go back and get his things
He will

But in the meantime
He'll meet his new neighbors
And promote his lower-case girl
To an upper-case Fantasy

He'll put on new jeans
Make toast in his new toaster
And bring his umbrella
Just in case
He meets sixteen new friends

Then he'll go out
And see his brand new old city

As if he's seeing it
For the very first time

What They Promise

What they promise
On the platforms
Is jobs
Mostly jobs


Every year jobs


And sometimes we feel bad for them
These job-promisers


Because we know
What they won't say


There aren't jobs
Not more jobs anyway
Not better jobs
Not jobs that we'd want


Those jobs belong to those
Who went to school
Who did better by themselves
Who got the hell out of here
And never looked back


They come here
And they find a box to stand on
And they tell us all about
Where we live


As if a place can be looked at on paper
And described
In numbers
And statistics
And potential


They tell us about our potential


But this is not a place
Of potential


This is an eroding place
A place that will one day
Be two warehouses
And a sign
That says 'Pop Zero'


We are on our way out
And here they stand
Telling us
They can help


They can stop our erosion
Our imminent demise


But they've been telling us that for years


These men in suits
These smart men
Who went to college
Whose parents never let them set foot
In places like this


These men who roll by
With their tinted windows
Never having to look out
At people like us
From their limos


Until they need our votes


These men with their clean hands
And their ties tied by people
Who get paid to do so


These men who don't need a thing from anyone
And never have
Looking out among the needy


Among the hungry
Who ignore
The rumbling of their stomachs
Because the rumbling of their kids' stomachs
Is so much louder


They stand and they promise


They promise health and education
And wealth beyond our wildest dreams


Decades ago
When we were still
Within an oasis
We called the Dream
We would listen to these men
And cry for them
A cry like a war cry


Stand behind them
And say 'These men are here to help'


And we would believe them


But that was decades ago
When we believed them
When they said we could change


Not we don't even believe ourselves
When we tell our wives
Our kids
Our neighbors


That we can change


This is not a place of change


There can be no change
When survival
Is the only thing
On most of our minds


But still we listen
Because despite what some may think
We are polite


We are nothing if not polite


Because polite is free
And so we can be
Polite


We listen to what they promise
But we heard it
And we hear it
And we'll hear it again


And once they're gone
These men
We won't see them again
For another four years


Until we're brought back together
Because it turns out they do need us
They need us to go
And vote
And agree to pretend
To believe
What they promise


Even if we don't


What they promise
Can be put on posters
And pins
And stickers
And signs


But it can't be put in our hearts
In our minds
In our systems


It can't be put in brand new textbooks
Or paychecks
Or broken down cars
Or beaten up marriages
Or battered lives


There's not enough paint on their promises
To cover us all up
And make us
Look new again


There's just not enough
To go around

They come from different parties

Different places

None of those places

Like our place

But all of them better

Shinier

Nicer

Richer?

Yeah, we'll say richer

They come with different sayings

And shortcomings

But all the things

Boil down

To nothing in the pot

They come

And they come

And they come

But they promise
And we applaud


It's like we're watching theater
The only theater we can afford to have
In this kind of town


And when they leave
We talk about how good they were
What a good job they did


Not at making us believe them
But at making themselves believe
That they could do it


That it's even possible


For them to deliver on
What they promise