Reincarnation
There is,
in a small city in Michigan,
an old man sitting in an old chair in his living room.
He is pleased with his bowel movements lately.
The kids are here, packing up his things,
because he is going into an assisted-care facility tomorrow,
but at least for now, he thinks,
everyone is here.
There is,
in that same city,
an old woman alone.
She does not have bowel movements.
She believes, with certainty, that everyone in her life has let her down.
She believes, with even greater certainty, in reincarnation,
and that once, many long lives ago,
she was a queen.
We Don’t Always Choose Who We Love
Come on
Come on
start a fight,
then lock yourself in the bathroom with the scissors
and tell me you will make the floor run red.
I was adopted, she said.
My birth mother never loved me.
When she met me, she wanted argue about the date I was born on
because she couldn’t remember but she couldn’t stand to be wrong.
Come on
Come on
I’m begging you now
come out of the bathroom,
you know I would never do this to you.
Why isn’t that enough?
The Passing of the Night
I want to sleep with you,
yes, I do.
I want to lie there in the quiet silence,
lie against the warmth of your body
and feel, like a quiet and graceful tide,
the rise and fall of your sleeping breath.
The birds that sing just before the dawn
do not sing to hasten the coming of the sun.
They do not cheer the fire and the coming heat.
They lament the passing of the stars,
and their softer, kinder light.
Copperhead
Hey there Copperhead.
Is it true your mother’s dead?
She says to say she loves you,
and even if you don’t think it’s true,
it’s the only thing she wants to do.
Copperhead, Copperhead.
Did you know your mother’s dead?
She wants to hear you say you love her,
even if it isn’t true.
She told me to speak to you,
it’s the only thing she wants to do.
It is Hard to do Right by Everyone
She said, she said, she said to me I don’t know what I want but I don’t want this and it isn’t his fault he’s a good guy you know a real good guy but I can’t stand it I can’t stand it
anymore and I just want it to be over without going through the
ending of it and I told her that I don’t know what to do here,
do now, but I want to be the guy, the next guy, the last guy
to taste her mouth, but it doesn’t feel right.
I don’t know if I can do this,
Isn’t there a Patron Saint
or an Eagles song, sung
for bad people like us?
I am unsure, you know,
because I am
not a
saint.
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