I almost feel as if I am holding a white flag in my fists still pumping vitally as if a heartbeat were within the capillaries of my fingers. "Here lies December 12, 2009. Here lies beloved wife of August 1, 2003. What a beautiful, loved, missed, cherished, respectful eveningtide of frog-tubas, star-piccolos, snap-marimbas. Adieu, adieu." I keep telling myself that one day one day won't die. But they always do, anyway. Our hearts are really just gargantuan palaces of these gravestones, and the deceased days lie there, and we never, ever pray for them. I hope somebody prays for me when I die, for my soul is at the mercy of life gone.
Anyway, I don't want to talk about it.
That's the issue. It's that, if you, leave, the, mind,stagnant, enough for, long
it pretty much dies.
Give me back my damn book.
The stickers are still sitting here
along with $4.25 and change
and warmth
and wrapping
and cards
and you're getting it,
but just
Give me back my damn book,
please.
It's hard enough to handle that moment
When it's still a virgin
and it's the wedding
Nothing's changed yet,
She's still who you want her to be forever, there, in her dress.
And then I open the doooo--
CREAK.
And then I feel coldth on my fooo--
CREAK.
I open the door to the bathroom, the most trrrr---
CREAK.
The toilet goe---
CREAK.
CREAK.
CREAK.
CREAK.
All the way back, reverse it.
By then, the whole world plus the bird knows you're awake
and you've consummated
but you don't feel like love, you
Feel like a pervert in the dusk.
When I stood out looking in that crowd
Most faces I could name if I'd like (but I don't want to)
they all seem so purposeful.
They all have something to say
--The faces, not the souls.
No, the souls are stillness in the auditorium.
And they clutch something, Oh, anything to accompany.
I don't feel comfortable being an actress
because eventually she signs a lease to take off her clothes
and kiss some boy she doesn't even love--
and if you didn't love him, why did you kiss him?
Because there's money in lust and in cameras.
So I just sit down and pretend like I have sunglasses on,
and pretend like someone but no one sees
What I'm seeing take place at that moment.
Even in the paralysis on the left,
the right wing huddles and swoops to bandage and cure.
Even in the mute front (all quiet on...)
The back tones of auburn and cigarettes
(Cigarettes is the perfect antepenultimate for any song)
rise above, swimming in the overheard sea of emotion.
There is never silence in the gym.
But, above all else,
I love you and pray for you, and you, you, you
Give me back my damn book.
