Friday, September 30, 2016

What I Did for the Moment

How long did I wait
Before I turned around
Did I have to leave a note
To let you know I held my ground

I was making something of myself
But you could never see
How hard it was to fail that big
And still believe in me

Pride is driving fast on cracking ice
Desperation’s knowing that you can’t afford the price
Try to get it right and you run out of time instead
Waking up alone in someone else’s unmade bed

You wouldn’t believe
How far I’d go to try and make believe
That you were finally starting to believe
That I saw you and you were seeing me

And at that moment, it felt right
And at that moment, I was wild
I had twice my grandma’s wisdom
And I felt just like a child

At that moment, I was who
I always thought that I could be
And you wouldn’t believe
What I did for the moment

The clock tells you a fairy tale
Your face says something else
You don’t remember who you were
But you remember how you felt

You got all the troubles in the world
So why not write a song
And the one person who loves you
Turns out to be all wrong

You wouldn’t believe
What it took to make myself believe
That you were never ever gonna leave
And I thought you would end up here with me

And in the moment, it was fine
And in the moment, it was good
I was trying like a fool
And doing what I could

At that moment, I was who
I always thought that I could be
And you wouldn’t believe
What I did for the moment

But the moment's in the ground
Before you get the chance to grieve
And you bury it with everything
You thought that you believed

You're left with just a memory
Of a time that never was
And you realize that passion
Can sometimes masquerade as love

And for a moment, you're in charge
And for a moment, you're not lost
And you can pay off all your love notes
And not worry 'bout the cost

At that moment, you pass by
All the places you never got to see
And you can't believe
What you did for the moment

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Sweet Relief

I remember standing
Like I never understood
Watching all the leaves blow by
Across the neighborhood

Then I heard the news
About the boy I left out west
Months without a phone call
But I never would have guessed

He found relief
Sweet relief

Driving to the exes house
To pick up all my stuff
He’s heading to Texas
‘Cause he says he’s had enough

Now we’re standing here
Debating optional goodbyes
I would love to laugh at him
But just for fun, I’ll cry

It’s a relief
Sweet relief

Why don’t you change?
Why don’t you grow up?
Why don’t you take a trip somewhere?

Too much to do
Too little time
Too hard to act like I could care

So when you let go
What do you know…

It’s a…relief

Looking at the funeral photos
Judging all the dresses
Thinking of the fools you’ve loved
And all your famous messes

Sitting on your mom’s porch
Sipping what she had in stock
One day you’re made of nothing
Then the next day you’re a rock

And now, relief
Sweet relief

You can figure out yourself
Just call out sick from work
Apologize to all the guys
For all your little quirks

Move back to the basement
And cut loose from all your friends
You’ll have another comeback
And we’ll see where this one ends

What a relief
Sweet relief

Who says hello?
Who’s checking in?
Who would depend on you at all?

It’s only a blip
A fall or a trip
Who’s even left for you to call?

You’d better let go
For all that you know

It’s a…relief

There’s so much to do
And not much of you

Better try now
To make it somehow

So when you let go
You’ll finally know


Sweet relief

Monday, September 26, 2016

Vacation Photos

A living room.  JULIE and JOHN are just arriving home.  There’s a tension in the air.

JULIE:  Okay, I didn’t want to bring it up.

JOHN:  Just say it, because I’m probably thinking the exact same thing.

JULIE:  When we were at the Green’s—

JOHN:  Yes?

JULIE:  Were you a little put off that they—

JOHN:  --Didn’t show us their vacation photos?

JULIE:  Yes!

JOHN:  I KNOW!

JULIE:  Did we do something wrong?

JOHN:  I have no idea.

JULIE:  Why else would we be over there?

JOHN:  I know.

JULIE:  They just came back from a vacation.  They invite us over.  They casually mention how great the trip was—

JOHN:  Once.  They mention it once.

JULIE:  Oh, I’ll get to that.

JOHN:  And that was after you prompted them—

JULIE:  Imagine if I hadn’t.  They probably wouldn’t have brought up the trip at all!

JOHN:  We would have just been sitting there—

JULIE:  --Not talking about the vacation.

JOHN:  We barely talked about it anyway.  I was furious.

JULIE:  I wanted to scream.

JOHN:  Who are these people?

JULIE:  Well, they’re supposed to be our friends.

JOHN:  Friends show you photos of their vacations, Julie.

JULIE:  I know, John, you’re preaching to the choir here.

JOHN:  And they kept taking our their phones like they were going to show us photos of their vacation and then—

JULIE:  Nothing.

JOHN:  Nothing!

JULIE:  Maybe they assumed we saw the photos they put online.

JOHN:  So what?  That’s it?  No sharing vacation photos at dinner parties anymore?

JULIE:  Maybe.

JOHN:  Then why even have dinner parties?  Why don’t we all just sit home on our phones and scroll through our friends’ vacations?

JULIE:  I mean, we do that already.

JOHN:  EXACTLY!

JULIE:  And Chris kept asking about me.  Did you notice that?

JOHN:  How could you not?

JULIE:  How are you doing, Julie?  How’s work, Julie?  How are you coping with the loss of your father, Julie?

JOHN:  Jesus.

JULIE:  I don’t want to talk about me.  I live with me.  What’s to talk about?

JOHN:  It was so weird.  They’re weird.

JULIE:  For a second, I thought he was hitting on me.  I thought—Oh my goodness, is Chris hitting on me right in front of John and Abby?  Then I realized he was genuinely interested in me, and it was like—

(She indicates her mind being blow.)

--You know?

JOHN:  Yup.  At first I was like—Oh okay, he’s just hitting on her—and I was going to maybe punch him or something—

JULIE:  You were never going to punch him.

JOHN:  No, I totally wasn’t, but I thought about maybe punching him before I realized I wouldn’t, and by then, I figured out that he was just interested in what you had to say, and then I really wanted to punch him!

JULIE:  It was sick.  It was like some kind of mind game.

JOHN:  I mean, there we are, waiting to hear about vacation and see some photos—

JULIE:  I was expecting at least three hours of photos.  Maybe four.

JOHN:  --And he’s asking you about that cancer scare you had while they were gone.

JULIE:  You would think my cancer scare was more interesting than their vacation.

JOHN:  You can’t talk about a cancer scare for four hours.  Cancer maybe, but not just a scare.

JULIE:  No, a scare gives you, like, five minutes of conversation—tops.  Maybe ten.

JOHN:  Maybe ten.

JULIE:  Hey Julie, I heard you might have cancer…Nope, turns out I don’t…Oh, that’s great.  That’s it.

JOHN:  That’s it.

JULIE:  That’s the most there is to talk about.

JOHN:  It’s pretty cut and dry.

JULIE:  Boring, really.

JOHN:  But wait, didn’t the doctor say he wanted to keep an eye on it?

JULIE:  John, please, I really don’t want to talk about it.

JOHN:  Right, sorry.

JULIE:  I figured as soon as we were done talking about that, they would bust out the phone and show us their photos.

JOHN:  Do you have any idea how excited I was for tonight?

JULIE:  You were so excited.

JOHN:  (Overlapping on the word “so.”)  I was so excited.  I didn’t even eat today, I was so excited.  I skipped lunch.  Now I’m starving.

JULIE:  Why didn’t you eat at dinner?

JOHN:  Because I was so mad when I realized we weren’t going to see the vacation photos that I completely lost my appetite.  It’s just coming back now.

JULIE:  I mean, they could have showed us one photo.

JOHN:  One photo!  I’m not asking for a lot.  One—two photos, tops.

JULIE:  Just something.

JOHN:  Just something to make us feel like we matter.

JULIE:  Like we’re not garbage.

JOHN:  Sitting there looking at that wilted arugula salad.

JULIE:  The salad was actually delicious.

JOHN:  You know what—I thought to myself—it looks wilted, but I bet it’s delicious.

JULIE:  It was so well done.  The wilting was because of this steaming thing that Abby does to it—

JOHN:  Steaming?

JULIE:  Yeah, but more complicated than that, like, with special herbal steam or something—

JOHN:  I can’t believe I didn’t eat that salad.

JULIE:  I ate yours.

JOHN:  Yeah, I remember.

JULIE:  I was just trying to be polite—even though I wanted to stab the two of them with my salad fork.

JOHN:  We should have asked them for the recipe.

JULIE:  Who knows if they would have told us, John?  Who knows what they’d tell us?  It’s like being friends with MI6—maybe everything’s going to be a secret from now on.

JOHN:  Next time we’ll go over and say ‘How’s the weather, Chris?’ and he’ll say ‘Oh, the weather.  It’s the weather.’

JULIE:  How was work today, Julie?....Oh, it was work.

JOHN:  We may as well be eating with mimes.

JULIE:  You know what I’d like to do?

JOHN:  Egg their house?

JULIE:  No.

JOHN:  Okay, sorry, I thought we were on the same page.

JULIE:  I—would like—to set up another dinner date.

JOHN:  Are you—

JULIE:  Here.

JOHN:  Here?

JULIE:  Yes.  Here.

JOHN:  Why?

JULIE:  Just hear me out.  They’ll get here.  And in the living room—we will have—a projector.

                (A beat.)

JOHN:  You are…amazing.

JULIE:  We will show them every photo from every one of our vacations.

JOHN:  Julie, we go on vacations constantly.

JULIE:  I know.

JOHN:  We just went on one right before they went on their’s.

JULIE:  I know.

JOHN:  I’m not even sure I still have a job.

JULIE:  I KNOW.  By the way, how are we doing financially?  Are we—

JOHN:  It would take hours to show all those photos!

JULIE:  Hours?  Days.  It would take days.  Our trip to Dubai alone has over eight thousand photos devoted to it.

JOHN:  Remember that day I just walked around with the camera glued to my face snapping at anything that moved?

JULIE:  Oh, I remember.

JOHN:  I mean, it was actually glued to my face.  I glued it there just to make it easier to take photos.

JULIE:  I remember.  You barely paid any attention to me.  Even though you knew how nervous I was about that man who robbed me when we first got—

JOHN:  So back to this plan.  You invite them over—

JULIE:  I invite them over—

JOHN:  And project all our photos—

JULIE:  I’ll get a screen.

JOHN:  No.

JULIE:  A projection screen.

JOHN:  You will not.

JULIE:  I will.

JOHN:  You will not.

JULIE:  I WILL.

JOHN:  I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS IDEA!

JULIE:  It’ll be like the 1950’s except none of us will be Communists.

JOHN:  That is so good.

JULIE:  And when it’s all over, we’ll turn the lights back on, stand in front of them, point to the projection screen, and say—‘That!—is Friendship.’

                (A beat.)

JOHN:  I couldn’t possibly love you anymore than I do right now.

JULIE:  After we get back from vacation, I’m calling them up.

JOHN:  Yes.

JULIE:   And then I’m going online and buying all that projection stuff.

JOHN:  I just lost my appetite again.

JULIE:  This is going to be rich.

JOHN:  That’ll give ‘em something to talk about.

JULIE:  Plenty.  It’ll give them plenty to talk about.  Not like tonight.

JOHN:  What did we talk about tonight?  I wasn’t even paying attention.

JULIE:  Oh, they kept bringing up politics.  And current events.  And literature.

JOHN:  Geez, how did we even stay awake?

JULIE:  I do this thing when someone’s boring where I visualize entire episodes of Law & Order in my mind.

JOHN:  I just try counting to a million.  It makes me look like I’m concentrating.

JULIE:  Hopefully we’ll have better luck at the Cantor’s tomorrow.

JOHN:  Oh, is that tomorrow?

JULIE:  Yes, I forgot all about it.

JOHN:  I can’t wait to hear about the new baby.

JULIE:  I know!  It’s so great.  We haven’t gotten to hear about a baby since the Porters had twins.

JOHN:  Have you seen anything online about the baby?

JULIE:  The new one?  The Cantor’s baby?

JOHN:  Yeah.

JULIE:  No, but I figured maybe they just hadn’t gotten around to…

                (A moment.)

JOHN:  If they don’t talk about that baby—

JULIE:  John—

JOHN:  If I even have to ASK to see a photo of that baby—

JULIE:  Johnnnnn—

JOHN:  Julie—

JULIE:  John—

JOHN:  Julie—

JULIE:  It’s a baby.  Of course they’re going to want talk about it.

JOHN:  They better.

JULIE:  It’s a new baby.

JOHN:  Yes, but—

JULIE:  What else is there to talk about?

JOHN:  I’m just a little skittish after tonight.

JULIE:  It’ll be fine.

JOHN:  It better be.

JULIE:  It’ll be fine.

JOHN:  Okay.

JULIE:  By the way, do you think tonight we should try…

JOHN:  Let’s not.  I’m tired.

JULIE:  Okay.

                (A beat.  He exhales.)

JOHN:  You know, it’s like…

JULIE:  Yes?

JOHN:  It’s like people just don’t know how to talk to each other anymore.

                (Lights.)


                End of Play

Saturday, September 24, 2016

How to Travel War Torn Countries With Former Artists Who Feel Guilty All the Time Because They’re Not Poor Anymore

Remember when I wanted
To be a singer?

I used to sing in clubs
And bars
And you would come watch me
And we’d get out at 2am
And go get pizza at Jack’s
Then fall asleep in the living room
On the couch my mom gave us
In that rundown apartment
On Fields Street

Sometimes…

Well, I think about that apartment
And the couch
And the bars
And pizza from Jack’s

And I think about us—now
And how lucky we are
But I…

Do you remember why we came here?

Remember?

I was going to be a singer
And you were going to write
And we were really going
To make a go of it

And then I took the job at Porter/Morgan
Just so we could afford to live
And you started helping out
At the coffee place
And it was all just temporary
Until one of us broke big

That was the plan

Remember the plan?

How long ago was the plan?

Eight years?  Nine

But you know now—
Now, we….

We take these nice vacations

We go to London
We go to Japan
We go to Paris, Australia
We’ve actually run out of nice places to go to
And now we’re going to not-so-nice places
Just because it’ll be more interesting

And we get good pictures
And we have fun stories
And we live a life
So many people would kill to live

But it’s not, you know
The plan

And it’s not that I miss singing
It’s that I’m scared
I’m scared because I don’t
I don’t miss singing
And I should
I should miss it
Because I was good at it, you know?
I was really good at it

I mean, I studied it
I pursued it
And now
I’ll be sitting at the firm
At my desk
In my office
An office else in the firm wants
Because it gets so much light
And I close all the blinds
And just sit there
In the dark
Whispering to myself
Like a crazy person

And do you know what I whisper?

How did I get here?

I don’t know when I started doing this
But lately, it’s all I do

I come back from lunch
Sit in the dark
And whisper—

How did I get here?
How did I get here?

I mean, does that seem
Normal to  you?

Maybe it does
Maybe you do it too

Maybe you go to the back of the coffeeshop
And close the door to your office
And do the same thing

You know, I told my friends about it
About the whispering
And they were like—

Oh, well, yeah
That’s—yeah
That’s what happens
Things change
Plans change
People change
Everything changes

But the blinds are drawn, you know?
The blinds are drawn
And I’m sitting there
And people are walking by my office
Wondering if we’re getting a divorce
And I’m losing my mind
Because I’m sitting there in the dark
After eight years
Eight years
In this place I never wanted to be
I never wanted to be there
I wanted to be in a bar
Late at night
Singing
And seeing you
In the back of the bar
Smiling at me
Making no money
Worrying about rent
Worrying about bills
Worrying about what would happen
If we ever decided to have kids
Or buy a house
Or grow up

You know?

But…

But doing the thing
The thing
You know?
The thing?
Remember the thing?

What the hell happened to the thing?

And next month we’re going to Miami
And two months after that we’re going to Toronto
Then Ireland
Then L.A.
Then Spain
Then Finland
Then Egypt
Then Russia

My god—why the hell are we going to Russia?

Is there a reason?
Could there possibly be a reason?

Other than the fact
That we need to be doing something with our lives
Other than working
So we can afford to live
In a city
We moved to
To do things
We’re currently not doing?

Could that be it?

What’s next?
What places can we go to
To create this impression
Of an interesting life
A better life

A life better than late night pizza
And secondhand couches
And neighborhoods like where Fields Street was
Where the trash never gets collected
And none of the fire hydrants work

The kind of life you live
If you stick to the plan
And stick to singing
And writing
And you don’t sell out
Because one day you looked at a paycheck
With six numbers after the decimal point
And suddenly you realized things could be easy

But what’s the point of having it easy
If you just punish yourself for it
By traveling so damn much
When you don’t even like it

God, I do not want to go to London anymore
Or Paris
Or any of those places
And those are just the nice places I don’t want to go to

Forget Egypt
And Russia
And China

I mean—are we really going to go to China?

What’s next?

North Korea?
Syria?
Iran?

Oh, how our friends will admire us
When they our photos
From various countries around the world
That all suffer from oppressive regimes
And endless war

God, we should offer tours
Tips
Write a book

How to Travel War Torn Countries
With Former Artists
Who Feel Guilty All the Time
Because They’re Not Poor Anymore

I just…

I just…

I…

I should miss it
Singing

I should miss it

And I should miss how I was
How I used to be
And you should miss how you used to be
Because…

I do miss that

You
Us

How we were

I don’t miss singing
And Fields Street
And passing out
With pizza grease all over me
But…

I miss you

And I don’t know when I lost you

I don’t know when you were here
And when you were gone
I don’t know when that all happened

How long have we been like this, you know?

How long have I
Been sitting

In the dark?

Friday, September 23, 2016

Courage

Courage is my granddaughter

Let me explain

When I was younger
We were taught
All of us, all the kids
Were taught
That we
Were not special

Now, I don’t want to make my mother and father
--Well, mostly my father—
Sound cruel

He was Russian
So was my mother
And where they came from
Being special
Got you in trouble
Sometimes it got you killed

They had a very, uh, village mentality
When it came to looking at the world

The way they saw it
Your job—was to be a citizen
Of the village

And that meant
To contribute
And be a good neighbor
And blend
In

Somebody who was a show-off
Somebody who stuck out
Who drew attention to themselves
Those were
Not
Good people

And that’s how we grew up
Me, my three sisters, my two brothers
All of us

Blend in
You are not special
You are not unique
You are a citizen
Of the village

Now, there’s an effect to that
A side effect, I guess you could say

Yes, we all became good neighbors
Yes, we all became decent human beings
But—

What my mother and father may not have realized
Is that when you teach kids they’re not special
And that they shouldn’t try to be special
Something happens

A few years after my second daughter was born
I was at the supermarket
Getting something for dinner
And out in the parking lot
I saw this man
And this woman
And they were fighting

It was just shouting back and forth
But then the man grabbed the woman
By the hair
And pushed her up against this car

She struggled with him
And at one point
He turned her around
And slapped her right across the face

I…I didn’t know what to do

I got my daughter in the car
As fast as I could
And I…I just drove off

When I got home
I told my husband what happened
And he was horrified

Not just at what I had seen
But how I had reacted

‘Why didn’t you do anything,’
He asked me
‘Why didn’t you go back in the store
And phone the police?’

But you see—

That’s not what someone does
If they’re trying to blend in
That’s how you draw a lot of attention
To yourself

I just…I just wasn’t the kind of person
Who could do that
Who could, you know, be the hero
In a situation like that

I called my sisters
And they said the same thing
One of my sisters even described
Seeing something similar
Outside a restaurant once

‘I kept hoping someone else
Would do something,’ she said

‘I kept hoping it wouldn’t have to be me’

You see, every once in awhile
Life
Requires some
Heroics

But heroes are special
And if you’ve been taught
That you’re not special
And that you shouldn’t want to be special
Then…

You see someone who needs you
And you can’t do it
You can’t
Help

After that day, I started to wonder
Could I have done something
If that was my daughter
Being beaten up
By some guy

Could I have stepped in
If it was someone I knew?
Someone I cared about?

I wanted to believe I could
But…

It was hard not to doubt myself

Which brings me to my granddaughter

Fast forward about a million years
And I’m a grandmother
My granddaughter is six
And I’m picking her up at school
So we can go buy her mom a birthday gift

Well, when I get to the school
The kids are all out on the playground
Waiting for their rides
And I see my granddaughter
Talking to a friend by the swings
So I wave to let her know I’m there
And she can finish talking to her friend
Then I sit down on a bench
To relax for a few minutes

A few feet over from my granddaughter
This boy—this really tall boy, god those kids are getting taller every year—
He’s standing next to this smaller boy
And he pushes him
He pushes the smaller kid down
On the ground
And starts yelling something at him

The bigger boy had to be at least nine or ten
And the smaller boy looked to be about my granddaughter’s age
And I instinctively started looking around
For a teacher, somebody who could help
The smaller boy

But when I looked back at the two boys
My granddaughter was standing
In between them

She was pointing her finger at the older, bigger boy
And she had this determined look in her eyes

The bigger boy said something to her
But I couldn’t hear what it was
She took a step towards him
And he turned
And walked away

Then she helped the smaller boy up
And went back to talking with her friend

I was…stunned

Here was a six-year-old girl
Doing what I couldn’t
As if it was
The easiest thing in the world

You know, the thing about kids today
--And yes, I say ‘kids today’ sometimes—
The thing about kids today
Is that they’re not scared to be special

Now, sometimes that makes them look
Entitled or obnoxious or vain

Sometimes it means endless online videos
And photos they take of themselves
And being loud
And acting out
But you know what?

There are side effects to all that
Really
Good
Side effects, like—

Like not being afraid

Like seeing something
That needs to be done
And doing it
And not worrying
If it means
Someone’s going to notice you
Or think a certain way about you
Or tell you to mind your own business

I never really wondered about courage
Until that day on the playground
I never thought about my parents
And asked myself if it ever occurred to them
That by teaching us how to be people in a village
They were also teaching us not to have courage
Not to be brave
Not to stand up for anybody
Even ourselves

You know…

One of my sisters used to have a boyfriend
Who used to say the most awful things to her
And my brother had a wife
Who treated him like garbage

My other sister has a boss
Who totally takes advantage of her
And my other brother barely says
More than two words a year

My youngest sister died
Because she was too scared to tell her doctor
About the lump she found

She didn’t want to make a fuss
She didn’t want…the attention

And then there’s me
And that woman in the parking lot
And how quickly I drove away

I think of that
And I think of my granddaughter

Who’s always on her phone
Who’s always got an opinion
Who’s always ready to burst into song
Or tackle her brother
Or tell you exactly what she thinks
About something

Who isn’t scared of a fight

And I think—

Thank God

Thank God
And screw the village

You wish for so many things
For your kids
And your grandkids
But sitting there on that bench
Watching my granddaughter
Stare down that bully

I thought about
How sometimes we forget
To wish for courage

We try to give them the world
But then we don’t give them
The courage to face it

But luckily for me
My granddaughter
Has courage

She is courage

And who knows?

Maybe I’ll keep being lucky
And some of that
Will rub off

On me

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Can I Drive By Your House?

Can I drive by your house?

The house where you used to live
You don’t live anywhere now
Not that I know of
Not that I’m aware of

Can I drive by your house
After leaving a bar
On a Tuesday night
And park the car
And turn off the lights
And sit on the side of the road
Wondering who’s living behind
Your windows now?

Can I sit and wallow
Just wallow
While I chew my gum
So I don’t bite my nails off

While I listen to songs
That weren’t around
When I knew you
But which I’m sure
You would’ve liked

As I let the engine clear its throat a few times
Telling me to get on with my night
That I have work tomorrow
That I have places to be
And this house is not your house
And the car parked in your spot
Is not new or owned by you

And that it’s pretty likely
Every single thing
Now sitting inside that house
Has never
And will never
Belong to you

Can I watch cars go by
And wonder where they’re going
And how long it will take them to get there
And whether it’s home
Or the home of someone else
They used to have around

What if we all drove
To someone else’s house
Right now?

The person that moved
The person that left
The person that stopped calling
The person we stopped calling
The person who could still be there
But we’re just not sure

The person we know
Isn’t there
Anymore

What if we all sat outside
Those homes
Those apartment buildings
Those condos
Those places

Sat in our cars
And our taxis
On our bikes
On the ground
Looking at where we used to go

And try to remember
The first time
We went there
After we realized
That behind that door
Was someone we loved

Remember the way
We pulled up
With the radio playing
A song about love
Where the music dropped out
Right before the second-to-last chorus

And we went through the door
Like we were walking into forever

The rest of our lives
Among those rugs
And that furniture
And that person
Who lived there
And knew us
Back before needed to drive by an old house
To remember
Who we were

That person cooked for us
And talked to us
And made us laugh
And watched tv with us
And gave us a place in the world
To be someone
We couldn’t be
Anywhere else

And imagine if everyone
Who lived inside those places now
Opened their doors
And said—‘Come in’

Imagine if they let us
Walk through those rooms
And touch those walls
And sit down on the floor
And try to get back
Some of what we had
Back then

What if some of that person
Was left behind
In the air
Or the carpet
Or the electrowaves
Or the peeling wallpaper
Or the wifi
Or the wood splinters

Could we know that?
Could we—?

If the world were a place
Where doors were always open
And you knew where people went
And nobody was too far away
Or gone for too long?

Those are impossible questions
With invisible answers

For now, I’m just wondering—

Can I drive by your house?

And think—

I used to know someone here

I used to have
A place

To go

Thursday, September 8, 2016

If You Were a Number

Can I tell you something?

If you were a number
And you were a hundred
You would be
A hundred days of spring

Does spring even have a hundred days?
Who knows
But the only hundred you could be
Would be spring and spring and spring and spring
And on and on and on
For all one hundred days

If you were ninety
You would be a healthy ninety-year-old woman
Who's had a vivacious
And jam-packed life
Full of dangerous passion
And motorcycle rides

If you were eighty
You would be eighty soft lights
Lighting up a New York skyline
So that two distant lovers on a train
Heading out of the city
Would look back
And wonder
If they should have tried
A little harder
To make it work

If you were seventy
You would be seventy pieces of candy
In over seventeen bags
Collected by children
On Halloween

Good candy
No, great candy
Full-size chocolate bars
And peanut butter
Everything

If you were sixty
You would be sixty
And sixty-four
So you could be a Beatles song
Because what in the world
Could be better
Than being
A Beatles song?

If you were fifty
You would be an anniversary
Shared by two people
Who don't remember
Not having each other

They have no time in their minds
Before love
Before being in love
And they would be you
And you would be fifty years
Of all that love

If you were forty
You would be a man having a mid-life crisis
Until his young daughter
Touches his hand
While they sit together at a movie
And looks up at him
As if he's her hero
Because he is
And she's his everything
And he almost forgot that
And then he remembered
And forty--which was FORTY!
Became--Forty
And he went on with it
And you were that little girl
Reminding her father
That numbers are wonderful
But also, just numbers

If you were thirty
You would be thirty days
After a heartbreak
When you're just beginning
To close up your wounds
And inch towards
Whatever comes next

If you were twenty
You would be twenty missed phone calls
From friends and family checking in on you
Because they want to say 'Hi'
And 'We miss you'
And 'Come home'

If you were ten
You would be a ten-year-old boy
Who got everything he wanted
On his birthday
Even the bike his parents said
He shouldn't expect to get
When they knew full well
They were going to get him the bike
Those cheeky parents

If you were nine
You would be the nine lives
Of a woman with all the luck in the world
And all of the lives would be exciting
And all of them would include funny hats

If you were eight
You would be eight pages left
In the best book
You've ever read

If you were seven
And my goodness
You really are a seven
You fit seven so well
Well--if you were seven
You would be seven small words
Written on a note
To a husband going on a trip
From his wife--

'I'll see you when you get back'

Seven small words
But when sincere
All you need to hear
To know that you've done all right in this world
Because you have somewhere
To come back to

If you were six
You'd be six puppies
Surrounding their mother
Waiting to be fed

Yes, you can be puppies
You can be puppies
In a poem about love
There are more original things
Than puppies
But why be original
When you can just be puppies?

If you were five
You would be
FIVE GOLDEN RINGS
Because you have to be
Right?

If you were four
You'd be four hours
Of laying in bed with me
With me staring at the back of your head
Wondering if you're smiling
As my arms go around you
Feeling you
Drift off
To sleep

If you were three
You'd be a wish
To be a number
And a wish to have the number to be three
And then three more wishes
Because that's how you beat
The Three Wishes Game

If you were two
You'd be me
And you'd be you
And we could be two
And two could be one thing
While still being two
And wouldn't that be something?

And if you were one...

...Well

You are one

That's the whole point

You are
One

I mean, honestly...

What else could you be?

Friday, September 2, 2016

And a Stranger Holds Your Hand

If you try to kill yourself
By jumping off the Porter Bridge
In Scoville, Massachusetts
You will find a stranger there

It won’t be someone
You expect
But then again
Who ever expects
A stranger?

At that moment
Seeing anyone you know
Would be a turn
In the wrong direction

A well-intentioned move
By the Universe
To steer you away
From your impending action
And the Universe
Though kind
Is misguided

No

What you needed
Was a stranger

The stranger helps you down
And the stranger gets you a blanket
From their nearby car
And the stranger has no interest in you
But also doesn’t want you to die
Because people shouldn’t want other people to die
It’s just not how things should be

This stranger sits in their car with you
And plays Jackie Wilson
And doesn’t say a damn thing

Nobody tries to get you to talk about
Why you wound up on that bridge
Looking down
At your next step

Nobody tries to get you to cry
Or yell
Or let it out

Nobody tries to tell you things
Your whole life
You’ve been told things
But not now

Not in this car
Not with this stranger

At some point
The stranger reaches over
And holds your hand

And it’s a gesture full of meaning
And without intention
And so it is the loveliest gesture
You can possibly think of

Because when—
I mean, really, when—
Does anybody
Ever
Hold your hand
Anymore?

When was the last time
Someone reached over
And held your hand
As if to say
In the purest
And truest way—

You’re not in this alone

And what is this?

This life
This place
This set of circumstances

And you are alone, aren’t you?
Because who do you have?
Aside from this stranger
In this car

As the rain lets up
And the radio plays
And cars start to come and go
Up and down the bridge
Because, oh look
It’s dawn
It’s daytime

It’s another damn day
And you’re here

Yesterday was a good day
To jump off a bridge
But the odds of that day recurring
Twice in a row are—
You have to admit to yourself—
Pretty slim

So you sit there
And watch the cars go by
And Jackie Wilson sings
About love
And what it can do for you

And a stranger
Holds your hand

And somehow
What you needed
Arrived

Just in time