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And Words Are All I Have
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He didn’t deserve you anyway, they tell you to cheer you up
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when you see your boyfriend hand in hand with another
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just hours after he left your bed.
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Or maybe your daughter flipped the finger to her controlling camp counsellor,
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forcing you to borrow a car to go pick her up.
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Have at it. Damn the damned U-boats.
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May you flourish like a girl who feels seen for the first time.
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May your robust joy overwhelm all your sorrows, pound them to dust.
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May it fortify you in the blue black dusk.
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But for those who face the dawn of each day with active dread,
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like a headmistress’ imminent scolding,
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those of you with random headaches that blur your vision in the mirror,
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leave you gasping for air.
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those with a frontal lobe resigned to nothingness,
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may you be spared from friends who counsel,
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what a thing it is to suffer and be strong, then ask, pensively, with a tilt of their heads, What might your sickness be asking of you?
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May they just keep their mouths shut and give you Reese’s Pieces and peonies the size of dinner plates, and maybe an Edward Hopper drawing to prop at the foot of your bed so you can pull up a stool any time you like in his wistful midnight café.
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News at 11 Warren Beatty will now be remembered as the old guy who screwed up at the Oscars. Forget his landmark films, his dangerous Clyde Barrow looks. That scene in Reds where he and Keaton reunite at the train station, The one that left you breathless: I saw it in a commercial the other day for Citibank. All of …
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No More Rust Now that scientists in Beijing have discovered how to slow down aging in monkeys, will we learn how to stop all of nature next? Think. No more showers of autumn leaves. Gone, the soulful, wrinkled hands, Happy Retirement cards. Bid goodbye to old faithful dogs, plastic surgeons, Lens Crafter stores, Gone, too, those gloriously aged porpoises, wizened …
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