A Mermaid Shirt

She’s going to fall in love

Wearing a mermaid shirt

Do you believe it?

I had her swinging off the roof

I was like—

Danielle, you get down from that roof

But I had to fake how mad I was

Because I thought the whole thing
Was pretty sweet

To tell you the truth

My first time falling in love was

When I turned eight-years-old

I fell for Mike Collins

The boy across the street

That my sister was dating

Danielle’s eleven

So even though I tell her

She’s too young

To be in love

Truthfully, she’s a little behind

Her mother

In that regard

But I still get nervous

That she’s going to get her heart broken
Because she’s so damn sweet

And trusting

And summer’s only so long

She’s running around

In that mermaid shirt

Acting like Hercules

Couldn’t lift her

Because her soul’s so full

And that just means

When the Fall rolls around

She’s going to crack into more pieces

Than I can pick up

This is where her father would come in handy

If he wasn’t stuck in the Middle East

Trying to sell Jeep Wranglers

To the Saudi’s

He’s the one who sent Danielle

The mermaid shirt

And now she won’t take it off

Because she thinks it’s magical

Just because

It came from far away

I told her I can get her ten more shirts like that one

At the Target

But she won’t let me wash it

Or even look at it funny

Even though it’s gotta smell by now

And I doubt any boy’s going to love her

If she’s wearing a dirty shirt

With a mermaid on it

Right now she’s dancing on the roof

To whatever that song is

I can’t stand

And if I was half the parent
My mother was

I would force her to come down

And do these dishes

That have been sitting here

Since last Halloween

But…

She hasn’t smiled in awhile

What with her dad gone and all

And I only know so many jokes

To make her laugh

So…

So if a boy makes her happy enough
To dance on the roof
Wearing a shirt with some girl on it

With seashells

For a bra--

Then so be it

Let something else

Take her down

Because it’s not

Gonna be me

She was up there for five hours

Yesterday

And when she came down

She plopped

Right down next to me

On the couch

While I was watching Jeopardy

The next thing I know

Her head is in my lap
And she’s snoring so loud

I couldn’t even hear the clues

But I stroked her hair

And just, you know

Just looked at her

Your kids get to an age

When they don’t really let you

Look at them anymore

Because it makes ‘em feel weird--

You staring at them

Like there’s something wrong

When really

You can’t just get over

How fast they’re growing up

I kind of just…savored it

Her laying down

Fast asleep on me

Like she used to do

When she was little

My little girl

All full up on love

And summer

And wearing a shirt

Her dad bought her

That she never wants

To take off

God, I thought, there’s so much

Weighing on my mind

But you gave me a little girl

Who still wants to fall asleep on me

When she’s too tired to hold herself up

And if that isn’t the best thing on earth
Then I don’t know what is

And maybe one of these days

She’ll let me wash that shirt

But if she doesn’t…

Well

There’s plenty of other things

To worry about

What's She Addicted to Now?

When she was twelve

She had the eating disorder

And we talked to her about it

We took her to the, to the—

Where’d we take her, P?

We took her somewhere

And we pretty much

Got that cleared up

And it was serious

It was very serious

And so we were, uh

We were very careful

To, uh, approach it

You know

The way we thought

It needed

To be approached

Until she was all fixed up

And then—

And that was a year or two

I don’t want to make it sound like

It just came and went

It was a whole thing

Our whole lives got caught up in that

So you should just
Know that

After the eating disorder

Was the cutting

The self-harm

Or whatever

That didn’t last as long
As the eating disorder

But it was still a few months

And we thought

Maybe it was a, a—

You know, like

Maybe it was withdrawal or something

From the eating disorder

From not having that anymore

But then after that

We found out she was doing drugs

And that’s not something—

I mean, therapy’s fine

Counselors are fine

Listening and talking and feelings

All that’s fine

We’re not savages

We’re not cave-people
We understand it’s tough for girls

And being a woman

And everything

And what happened to her—

What happened to her

When she was young

That was rough

And nobody’s saying it wasn’t

But I don’t do drugs

And I don’t tolerate people

Who do drugs

And I told her that

And now—keep in mind

That was before I even knew

About the drinking

She’s not even eighteen at this point

Forget about twenty-one

And she’s drinking

And doing drugs

And we’d just had it

I mean, I guess, uh—

I guess I’ll just speak for me here

But we had had it

With this whole thing

This addiction

That addiction

All of that

I mean, at some point

You have to take responsibility

For what you’re doing

With your life

Now I understand

She wasn’t an adult

At that point

At least not the way
We think about adults nowadays

But she wasn’t a kid either
Not really

And she’s going around

Getting herself into all kinds of trouble
That other people

Are going to have to get her out of

And that’s just not right

To shut down an entire family

And what the people in that family

Have going on in their own lives

Just so you can cut yourself up

Or shoot up

Or get drunk
Or do whatever you feel like doing

Is just wrong

It’s wrong and selfish

And I was fed up with it

So now you’re here

Telling me about her latest thing

And you know, I cut her off

Yeah, and I’m not happy to say that

But I’m not ashamed to say it either

I cut her off

Because I didn’t know

What else I was supposed to do

And she’s not my only kid, you know

I have other kids too

Four of them

And I have to think about them
Don't I/

I have to think about

Protecting them

So you come here

And you’re talking

And I’m listening

But in the back of my mind

All I’m thinking is—

What’s she addicted to now?

What’s she gotten herself into now?

And I know how that sounds

And I know it’s…

I know how it sounds

But I can’t help you

I can’t help you

And I can’t help her

And that’s it

That’s just all there is to it

Lanes

On my way to work

There’s a road

With two lanes

Now, there’s nothing on

The right side of the road

No homes, no businesses

Nothing

And on the left side of the road

Is everything you can imagine

Restaurants, stores

Shopping plazas

And my job is at the end of the street

Right before it turns onto Hapley

Then down into Scoville proper

So here’s my daily predicament—

Do I stay in the right lane

Meaning—the slow lane

And not get to work

As briskly as I could

In the left

Provided—

--And this is a big provided—

Provided that nobody in the left lane

Is looking to make one of those deadly left turns

Into one of those many attractive parking lots

Leading to all kinds of wonderful things

Because, you see, if you try to make a left turn

You’re going to be sitting for awhile

Waiting for somebody to let you go

Because there aren't any green arrows
On any of the stoplights
On that road

It's all about
Who's willing
To let you go

It amazes me

That so many traffic laws

Still depend upon

The kindness

Of strangers

The point is

If I’m lucky—

And I have been lucky

From time to time—

If I’m lucky

I get into the left lane

And everybody else in the left lane--

Everybody ahead of me, I mean

Is in the same boat as me

They’re all going down

To the end of the road

Either to where I work

At Scoville Trust

Or they need to get to Hapley

And Scoville Proper

So we’re all going along

At a nice clip

A responsible

But well-paced clip

And I get to work

In no time

But as you can imagine

That’s a gamble

Because usually

When I get in the left-hand lane

Somebody decides to throw on their turn signal

And make a left

And that means I’m going to be stuck behind them

For awhile

Because once you choose a lane

You’re in that lane

That road’s too busy

To try moving over

You’ll get in an accident

Sure as you’re born

And, of course, moving over

Would be pointless anyway

Because as soon as you move over

That’s when the car in front of you

Makes the left-hand turn

And so you moved for nothing

You put your life on the line

For no reason at all

Just because you’re mad

That you tried going in the left-hand lane

To begin with

When you should have just stayed in the right-hand lane

Going along a little slower

But knowing there weren’t going to be any interruptions

Because there’s nothing on

The right-hand side of the road

So usually

That’s what I do

I trudge down the right-hand lane

And I look over at the left-hand lane

And usually I see people stuck behind somebody

Making a left-hand turn
And I feel kind of vindicated

About my choice

To live in the right lane

But sometimes

I see somebody

Coasting down the left-hand lane

Nobody else in sight

And I envy that person
I envy the hell out of them

I wonder if maybe I should be more like that person

Try the left lane a little bit more

Walk on the wild side

That kind of thing

And somewhere in all that

There’s a metaphor for life

I don’t know what it is

But I’m sure it’s there

Maybe you can figure it out

If you have the time

But me?

I gotta get

To work

Go Home and Eat Cake

Go home and eat cake

Don’t sit here

Don’t fucking sit here

Talking about

Your problems

I got--fuck Marie

I got so many problems

I can’t even—

I can’t even

Think about—

I gotta list ‘em

I gotta list ‘em all down

Just so I don’t forget

My fucking problems

So don’t—

You know what?

Don’t just drag your cigarette

And sip your beer

And tell me

About your problems, okay?

Everybody’s got a box of Kleenex

And a nose full of something, right?

So why don’t you just go home?

Go home and have your cake

That’s what you should do

You wanna know where I gotta go

After this?

After I’m done

Standing here

Listening to you bitch and moan

About what you gotta do

And where you gotta be

Which is nothing

And nowhere?

I gotta drive all the way up to St. Frank’s

And pick up my kid

From ballet practice

Can’t count on her fuckin’ mother to do it

Because she's got her headaches every other fuckin’ day

Same as when we were married

So sometimes I say to her—

‘Rissa, did you remember to pick up D at school?’

--And I hear this pause on the other end

Like, Oh shit

Like, Oh shit I forgot my kid again

Like my kid
Our kid

Is a box of fuckin’ cereal at the grocery store

That she just forgot to throw in her cart

So there I go racing a hundred miles an hour

Down towards St. Frank’s

Or wherever it is Rissa fuckin’ left her this time

And my car’s not inspected

The registration is expired

And I got two parking tickets I never paid

Went by two different police cars

Because it’s the end of the month

And they gotta get their quota

But what am I supposed to do?

Let my six-year-old kid

Keep standing out in the cold

Because her mother

Can’t be bothered

To remember one fuckin’ thing?

I get there and D’s sitting in some car

Her best friend’s mother

And the mother gives me a look

Like I’m the fuckin’ trash

That forgot to pick up my kid

When really

I’m fuckin’ Superman

Flying around the world

Trying to cover

For my ex-wife

Even though she doesn’t have a job

Or bills

Or any other fuckin’ thing to worry about

But our kid

Because she’s banging some old guy

Who takes care of everything for her

And who’s taking care of me?
Who’s taking care of our kid?

Who’s baking the cake

You know what I mean?

Yeah, have another fuckin’ cigarette

Kill yourself a little bit quicker

Jesus Christ

You’re just like Rissa, you know that?

Not a damn difference

Between any of you women

All you wanna do

Is put your feet up

And let somebody cover your ass

D’s probably going to grow up

To be the same damn way

And what the fuck can I do about it?

I’m only one guy

You women

You’re like—

You’re like the emperors

And everybody else—

All the guys like me

We’re just there

To put your feet up

On some cushion

And feed you your grapes

Isn’t that right?

Jesus

Just finish your drink

And go home, Marie

Go home to wherever home is

And—and—and—

Live your life

Eat your cake

Have a slice for me too

While you’re at it

As long as you’re living the good life

You might as well live some of it

For other people

I'm here stuck standing behind a bar

Wondering if my kid’s somewhere out in the rain

Because today’s the day

I'm not allowed to see her

Put my hand on her one time
One damn time
And I'm the bad guy

That's how it is
I'm the bad guy

Well I’m glad you’re enjoying that cigarette

And I’m glad you like your drink

I’m glad you like hearing my stories

I’m glad for you, Marie

Having fun up there

At the top

I’m glad somebody’s coming out

Ahead

Mary Won't Use the Phone

I’m sorry, Mae

But you can’t teach an old dog

New tricks

And this twenty-eight years old dog
Is no exception

I’ve learned everything
I’m going to learn in my life

Except for how to put in false teeth

And how to die beatifically

And I’ll tell you something else--

I am not going to be made

To feel ashamed

For being phone illiterate

Ever since they came out with that contraption

Two years ago

All anybody wants to do

Is ask you

If you know how to use it

Can I ask you something?

What was wrong with the telegram?
What was wrong with writing letters?
What was wrong with smoke signals?

Kids today are going to have no idea

How to make a proper smoke signal

And that’s sad, Mae

That’s a true shame

My sister got a phone at her house

And now you can’t get her

Out of the bathtub

Well, the bathtub is in the kitchen

So that’s where they put the phone

You didn’t expect them

To put it in the bedroom, did you?

Heavens above, Mae

The things you come up with

A phone in the bedroom!

Why not just invite the whole neighborhood

To sit by the window and listen

While you tend to your husband?

What is this world coming to?

As it stands, my sister spends five whole minutes

Every single day

Gossiping with her friend June

Mind you, June lives right up the road

Just fifteen short miles

And there my sister is

Yakking away on the phone

Laziness is pervading

The collective consciousness, Mae

It’s corrupting

Our souls

By way of our ears

Mother always said

That was how

The devil would get in

I had a look at this device

When I went to drop off

My sister’s Wednesday corset

And sure enough

It seemed as foreign to me

As a Swedish hand towel

You talk into one end

You listen with the other

There’s a circle

There’s a cord

It’s all too much for me

No, thank you

That’s what I said

Nooooooo, thank you

Besides, you should hear my sister now

Mentioning all the things she knows about

Because of that phone

So-and-so is having a birthday party

For their son

This one is celebrating an anniversary

That one is opening their second saloon

Why, if I knew about all those occasions

I might actually be expected

To attend them

Can you imagine?

Me parading myself around town

Going to every little event

And party

No, thank you
Very much

I much prefer sitting at home

In blissful ignorance

Not knowing what’s going on

In the lives of anyone

That’s important to me

If I want to attend an event

I’m sure I’ll find out about it

And if I don’t find out about it

It’s probably because

I have no interest in it

Because it doesn’t have

Anything to do with me

That system has worked

For hundreds of years

And I see no reason

To disrupt it now

As soon as you start connecting people to each other

They start depending on each other

Expecting support from each other

And pretty soon

You have anarchy

It’s a short road

From connection

To corruption, Mae

A very short road

A lot shorter than the time it would take

To walk fifteen miles

And say ‘Hi, June, how are you?’

Honestly, Mae

This world we live in

It’s getting smaller all the time

The Men Outside the Lumber Yard

The men outside the lumber yard

Wait for her

To bring the car around

She’ll take two of them home

And leave the rest

For another day

The boy she selects

Can’t be more than nineteen

The other one

Has a scar on his lower lip

That either came from a bar fight

Or a childhood fall

She likes the look of them

As they take up space

In her backseat

Her old Latin teacher

Rings out in her mind

Reminding her

That she is a descendant of greatness

That she falls out of Queens

Out of the history of importance
Not just the idea of it

Her pinky finger

Taps on the steering wheel

And when they pull up to her house

She lets the car run for a little while

So she can finish listening

To Patti Smith

She hasn’t smoked in years

But she could go for a cigarette right now

Something about the boy

With his head against

The back window

Makes her want to unwind

His forehead leaves a little bit of fog
On the glass
And she wonders what's on his mind

Out in the garden

She points to things

That need tidying up

Some overgrown weeds

A dirt pile next to the pool

The low-hanging tree branches

That keep tapping

Against the window

She gives them their assignments

And then retires to the dining room

So she can sip a strong drink

And watch them work

The boy moves quickly

Obviously wanting this

To be over fast

He's diligent

Hard-working

Which was something

She hadn’t expected

She thought if she took home a young one

They’d take at least a few hours

To get everything done

The young ones usually move slow

So they don’t have to go back to the lumber yard

And pick up a second job for the day

They get paid for how long they take

So why rush?

But this boy wanted to get out of here

He was moving like a maniac

Around the yard

And it was pissing her off

Until she noticed the man

He was leaning up against

The tree

With the low-hanging branches

His shirt was ripped

In a few good places

Not like those over-priced

Distressed shirts

Her son likes to wear

These were real rips

Real tears

Letting everybody know
That he earned

His distress

While the boy worked

The man leaned back

And watched her

Watch them

He rubbed his hands

And sugar smirked

Like he was

In on some joke

Like he knew

Where the camera

Was hidden

She kept looking at him

Not wanting to show weakness

Not wanting to hint at

What was under that dirt pile

Next to the pool

An index finger

Was sticking up

Out of the top of the pile

But the boy hadn’t noticed it yet

He was too busy

Pulling weeds

The man with the ripped shirt

Approached the glass

That separated

The dining room

From the patio

From the yard

Where the roses get watered

With clear-water sweat

And blue soil mercy

The man put his hand

Up against the glass

As she leaned back

Into her chair

Her drink still cold

And her peppermint robe

Left casually undone

The boy saw the finger

Just as the man took his hand

Placed it lightly against the glass

And made it

Into a fist

Nick from Africa

Nick is from Africa

And so we get looks

We get looks

Because he’s from Africa

And he doesn’t

Uh

He doesn’t look—

Well, so, obviously

There’s no look

There’s no look to any, uh

Certain

Continent

But obviously

People expect, you know

They hear

That I’m dating a—

And usually

The first thing they say is—

Nick?  
His name is Nick?
Is Nick an African name?

Which is so stupid

Which is so fucking stupid

I mean, yes, uh

His actual name

Isn’t Nick

But it’s a, a nick—

It’s what we call him

And there’s a story behind that

That’s really—

It’s a funny story

But so first

They’re like—

Oh, his name is Nick?

And then they meet him

And then they get this look

Because he doesn’t—

Uh, he’s just not—

He’s not

What they’re expecting

Which is—

I mean, you know
Not white
They're not expecting him
To be white

Which is really racist

Nick doesn’t think it’s racist

Because he’s really nice

He’s really nice

About all that stuff

And how people are
When they meet him

But I’m like—

Are you kidding?

They have white people in Africa

A lot of them

You can be white

And still be an African

It’s a continent

And what is that anyway?
What is a continent?
It’s just huge chunk of the earth
It's, uh, geological
It's a rock
It's just a big rock
With people on it

And to have a perception about how those people
On that particular rock should look

Thinking that everybody who lives there

Or comes from there

Should look the same way is—

It might not be racist

But it’s something

It’s some kind of problem

You know?

That there’s an assumption?

I just find that

To be a huge problem

…I mean, I’m not sure why

But it has to be

Some kind of problem

Nick tells me not to worry about it

That it’s really not a big deal

Or that, you know

If it bothers me that much
I should just stop telling people

That my boyfriend’s from Africa

But why?

Why should I have to stop doing that?

I’m proud of Nick

And his heritage

Where he comes from
You know?

I’m proud to be dating

An African man

I don’t see why

I should have to, you know

Shy away from that

I want to embrace it

I want to own it

I want to be proud

And these, you know

Puzzling looks

Are just like—

It’s like they’re saying—

He’s not really African

You’re not really dating an African

You’re just another white girl

Dating another white guy

And that is just not fair

And also, not true

I am dating an African

And I just want people to, you know

Respect me for that

I want them

To acknowledge

That I am doing something

That, uh, you know

Not everybody, uh,

I guess—does?

Just some respect, you know?

Not for me, even

But, you know, for Nick

It’s really more about him

I mean, I don’t even really care

To be honest

It doesn’t bother me

That much

At all