Someone Else's Neighborhood

I never thought
I’d see something like that

In someone else’s neighborhood

Not like in ours

Not like in mine

I thought the streetlights

Would be higher

And the cement a cooler gray

I suspected I’d see

Lights behind dark red curtains

And lawns trimmed like eyebrows

And babies

And dogs

I never thought I’d see

A child standing

In the middle of the street

Not sure which side

She belongs on

There was a three-story building

The color of gold

But it cracked at the sides

And the windows are closed

The bars bar the wondering

You’re likely to do

About who could live there

And what they’re like

And what they do

And you say--

‘For a living’

But what living?

We don’t have living

Where I’m from

But I thought that was just us

Not someone else

And not

Another

Neighborhood

I never thought

A kitchen table

Could be more popular

Than a dance hall

I never thought

The ticket would get punched

Before I did

Sending me thousands

But only letting me

Keep a ten

I never thought my mind

Could be mine

Or that ideas

Could come out of me

And not be a hand-me down

Like everything else

Like everything else

Two cracks in a sidewalk

And I’d be slammed

With holes in my sneakers

With hard lefts

With two rights

With a miracle anticipated

But never executed

Nothing grows

Where I’m from

Not even roses

From concrete

We don’t even get

The poetry

Of other people’s

Misery

But I thought

At least

We’d be free

From thinking

That we

Were not

Unique

That was what I thought
Until I found myself

In someone else’s neighborhood

One house disappears

Then a man

Then a woman

Then another woman

Then a family

And have they moved?

Nobody moves

Nobody goes anywhere

But they’re not here

Not anymore

I walk down streets

Named after trees

And I feel like somebody’s

Following me

But where I’m going

Has never been anywhere

That someone else

Would want to be

Ring a doorbell

Introduce myself

And ask where I am

And how I got here

And did I ever live here

Because this looks just like--

It looks just like

It’s mine

When all around ‘mine’

Is a line

That separates

And doesn’t

Because it disappears

Because it disappears

Because it was here

And like everything else

It disappears

Chickens in the Air

The chickens are nearing the clouds

When the thunder strikes

The chickens huddle together

In the space the basket provides

They’ve never ridden

In a hot-air balloon until now

One flaps its wings

And considers a jump

But the distance to the ground

Would surely kill it

Chickens can often be unintelligent

But rarely are they suicidal

The chickens cluck and fuss

But the thunder subsides eventually

As the balloon moves towards a mountain

They flap as hard as they can to catch a glimpse

Rock formations and cool mountain air

Are all they can take in before their ride sails on

The balloon should have gone down hours ago

But somehow it stays aloft

One chicken keeps to itself

Not wanting any part of the trip or its socialization

A drop of rain lands in the basket

Causing a commotion

But where is the rain coming from?
The thunder is long gone

On the ground, a farmer finds an empty yard

And a yellow square where his balloon used to be

A few miles away from him

A dog rolls an egg down a hill

The absence of a chicken

Is not noteworthy but it is noticeable

The absence of a ten chickens

Could be cause for concern

The balloon hovers for a bit

Over a small island in the Pacific

The chickens cannot possibly have traveled that far

But they hear the singing of a whale who they know lives far from them

At night, they try to enjoy the presence of stars

And the sound of cities sliding further and further away

When the heat from equatorial spots becomes too much

They flap at each other to create little windstorms

They are colleagues--whether they like it or not

And the only way they’ll reach home again is together

Ten went up

Ten will come down

But the balloon only seems to go higher

And the stars only seem to get closer

One chicken makes a wish on the moon

And the next day there are only nine chickens in the basket

Nobody knows what happened to the tenth

Or even which chicken it was

Each day after that

A different chicken goes missing

They all try to take turns staying awake in pairs

To prevent the loss

But when morning comes

They all wake up not remembering having slept

And there’s a single feather

Where a bird should have been

When the balloon finally lands

In a graceful descent

It does so in a field

Near Sussex

The farmer who finds it

Is nothing like the farmer back home

When she approaches the basket

She thinks she hears clucking

How ridiculous, she thinks,

My mind is playing tricks on me

Btu when she peers in

She sees ten feathers

And two perfect pearly

Eggs

The farmer takes the eggs inside

And places them on her kitchen table

Not sure if she should crack them

Over a frying pan

And not sure

Why she shouldn’t

The eggs sit there for a few days

And on the tenth day

A crack splits each one

Down the middle

And the farmer wonders

What will come out

Knowing it should be one thing

But it could be something else

Altogether

How Ya Feelin'?

     (A concert.)

LIZZO:  Okay, so let me ask you something?  How ya feelin'?

CROWD:  WE'VE BEEN BETTER!

LIZZO:  What?

CROWD:  WE'VE BEEN BETTER!

LIZZO:  Okay, but--we're a concert.  We're having fun.  You're having fun, right?

CROWD:  SO MUCH FUN!

LIZZO:  Okay, so how ya feelin'?

CROWD:  DREADING THE IDEA OF GOING TO WORK TOMORROW SO WE CAN MAKE MINIMUM WAGE AND GET SCREAMED AT BY A WOMAN NAMED JESSICA!

LIZZO:  Uh, all right, but--how about we live in the moment?

CROWD:  OKAY!

LIZZO:  Okay, so--how ya feelin'?

CROWD:  THERE ARE KIDS IN CAGES!

LIZZO:  Baby, how ya feelin'?

CROWD:  TRUMP COULD WIN AGAIN!

LIZZO:  Baby, how ya feelin'?

CROWD:  I THINK I HAVE FOOD POISONING AND I'M NOT INSURED!

LIZZO:  All right, hang on.  Just hang on a second.  When I ask, how ya feelin'--

CROWD:  CLIMATE CHANGE IS ADVANCING!

LIZZO:  Hold on!  When I ask that question, it's more about, like, self-love and confidence and--

CROWD:  I'VE GOT SIX GRAY HAIRS!

LIZZO:  But that's--

CROWD:  I JUST CHECKED, IT'S REALLY NINE GRAY HAIRS!

LIZZO:  Love yourself anyway!

CROWD:  YESTERDAY I DID NOTHING BUT WATCH CHOPPED ALL DAY!

LIZZO:  That's self-care!

CROWD:  I ATE A BAG OF DORITOS AND HOOKED UP WITH MY EX.

LIZZO:  That is--Okay, that's not self-care, but--

CROWD:  BEES ARE GOING EXTINCT!

LIZZO:  But, uh, how ya feelin'?

CROWD:  EH, YOU KNOW!

LIZZO:  How ya feelin'?

CROWD:  I THINK I HAVE A URINARY TRACT INFECTION!

LIZZO:  I don't think there's going to be an encore.

     (CROWD groans.)

The Thong Song

I’m going to tell you this

And you’re going to laugh

So before I tell you

I just want to ask

That you not laugh

Okay?

Okay, um, so--

My grandmother
Wanted a song

Her favorite song

Played

At her funeral

And, um, that song was--

The Thong Song

Yes

Yes

...Yes

By Sisqo

She--she loved that song

And, um, she, uh--

She pretty much hated

Everything else

And I’m not just talking

About music

I mean

She hated

Everything

She was--

Not the nicest person

You’ve ever met

She liked to yell

And throw things

And while you might say--

Well, maybe she was losing it

The doctors assured us

That she was totally in her own mind

Like, in a very firm

And, almost stubborn way

Right up until the end

The end being her one hundred and third birthday

She buried a lot of people

Let me tell you

And the one thing

The only thing

That brought her

Real joy in this life

Appeared to be

The Thong Song

So, um, she made it very clear

That that was what she wanted

Played at her funeral

Now, if you’re wondering

How easy it is

To get a funeral home

To allow you

To play The Thong Song

I can tell you

It’s not easy

It is--pretty much
Whatever the opposite is

Of easy

Hard doesn’t, um,

Doesn’t seem

Like a strong enough word

But we found one

We found a funeral home

With a sense of humor

Which, um, that was--

Lucky

For us

And, um--

The funeral happened

Lots of people showed up

Probably because they wanted to be sure

She was really dead

When you crest a hundred

And you’re still calling at least five people a day

Just to tell them

How much you dislike them

People start to wonder

If death is even possible for you

So there were all these people there

None of them crying
Not a one

All twelve of her children were there

And six of them were burying laughter

So, um, yeah

And playing The Thong Song

Really didn’t help

But, um, we did it

We played the song

And then we buried her

Along with our laughter

And we all got pizza

And went home

But you know what I wonder?

I wonder if anybody

Who likes The Thong Song

That much

Could really be

All that bad?

I mean, she was bad

She was--

Truly evil

But--

She also really loved

This anthem of, uh, you know

Misogyny

But also

Just

Pure joy

And, um--

I have to think

There’s something to that

You know?

I have to think

That deep down

Deep

Deep

Down

There had to be

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