at first I was confused
by your behavior. I thought
maybe it was because
I had sent you some music
and you hadn’t had a chance
to listen to it yet. that’s
the kind of reason I avoid
people with whom
I have no real beef but the way
they remind me of
my own failings.
Continue reading to my friend who has been ignoring me for 30 days now
it was the moon’s day.
I slept late and long,
and when I rose
I did not know
if I was still dreaming.
we fought, and then made
angry love. you left, and I
took what I had wrested
from you and used it
to make a child, dark
and lonely as the night
that spawned her.
my stepbrother wrote to me
to tell me about his
eleven year old
daughter. she’s writing
a book, he said. she
reminds him of me.
she is about the age that I was
when my mother married
his father. it was not
at all like the Brady Bunch,
though my sister
and the two boys
might have thought so.
Debe Dalton has a song
about trying to be
a better person. I wish
I could relate, but
I am starting to think
I’m getting worse.
The Beatles sang
“I have to admit it’s
getting better”, but
John Lennon continued
to be a jerk.
won’t I ever
get sick of doing
the wrong thing?
everything was fine.
the night was
a great big juicy apple
and we were enjoying it
together.
until.
two tiny worms
rankled and crawled
at the bottom of
my heart and left
a bad taste
in my mind’s
mouth:
to the people
who were talking about us
while we were on stage:
fuck you! I didn’t even
hear your shitty ass
comments but they
distracted my boyfriend
and musical partner.
you’ve got some nerve.
if I knew who you were,
I’d call you out in a
very personal manner.
to be continued, you
motherfuckers.
you left it
open. to the elements,
to thieves, to squirrels,
to everyone
but me. you’re lucky
that all your crappy,
crappy stuff
was still there when
we came back
to the car. no one
stole your sweet ride,
just like no one stole
your sealed-up
heart.
N.B.: this is the poem
I didn’t write
back when said incident
occurred. is it the same
as what I would have done
then?
the fact that
you even thought
that I would think
that your leaving
that window open
was some kind
of subconscious invitation
makes me laugh.
I wasn’t
even going to
go there. in fact I literally
had not noticed
the offending state
of said window
until you
pointed it out.
you’re the one
who presumed I would
think that, got
annoyed by the nerve of my
presumption, and then
sang a whole slam
about it.
okay, then. I’m
now the one
who is paging
Dr. Freud, on
your behalf. Siggy,
pickup line 1.
I put a frog in your desk
the other day,
did you notice?
I was the one who pulled
out your chair
just before you sat down,
it was my foot that tripped you
that time in the lunch room,
it was me who carved your
initials in that back wall.
I poke you and poke you
but you never pull
my pigtails. what do I
have to do to get you
to notice me?
her latest battle song sung, the bard
sits back and enjoys
the angry squawking
and sputtering
of her rival, while she partakes
of the epic feast before her,
savoring every bite
as if it were his jealous heart
on a platter.
