I Would Leave Me If I Could: A Collection of Poetry(7)
These things they come and go, and I mean half of everything I tell you.
I’m half of everything I hate, and half of anything I create is you too.
So I start to hate the music when I hate you.
EIGHT
There was a mailman
I loved as a little girl.
He would stop at the communal mailbox On the street
In the center of the apartment complex And begin sorting mail away Into 150 different little boxes We lived in 1202
I would rush from my house To greet the mailman
And he would talk to me as he worked Filing away bills and cards and coupons He would ask me questions Quiz me
And give me a piece of Bazooka gum For every question I got right I would spin around and crush my sneakers rocking up and down on my toes I would curl one piece of hair Around my finger while I thought of the answers I would slide my tongue between my teeth and the windows where they were missing And between every mailbox The mailman would look at me and smile He’d pat me on the cheek
And tell me
That I was as smart as he was.
As smart as any man.
And I believed him.
Because why wouldn’t I?
I was 8.
I knew that George Bush would win the election.
I knew the Pythagorean theorem.
I read 300 books from the public library And I could draw every animal by memory.
I liked him ’cause he gave me chewing gum And talked to me in his low voice Calm and soft
Not the shrill, high-pitched voice They would use on my baby brother.
One day the mailman didn’t show up for work I ran out and stopped in my tracks There was a different man there I asked if my friend was sick The imposter ignored me
The new mailman showed up a few days in a row The kids in the neighborhood said The old one had a heart attack in a bowl of spaghetti And died with noodles up his nose I cried
One Wednesday I ran out to the new mailman And asked if he had any gum He told me to stay away
Because he didn’t want to get in trouble like Charlie I didn’t know my friend’s name was Charlie And I didn’t know how I could have gotten him in trouble So I asked my mom
How you could give someone a heart attack And she rubbed her head
and stretched her feet across the couch and said, “It feels like you’re gonna give me one right now.”
I didn’t want my mom to die too.
So I hid in my room
And I cried
Because I was 8
And a murderer.
IS THERE SOMEWHERE ELSE?
You arrive late.
Half-smile on your face.
Your tongue is thick, I love the taste.
“Welcome to my new place.”
Haven’t seen you in a year, you come out of your skin.
You’re tripping on your sneakers, beg I let you in.
I say,
“Where have you been?”
You answer,
“Where do I begin?”
You’re coming early.
I mean this
figuratively.
Demeanor is cautious.
Unprovocative.
You’re still
so fucking talkative.
“Haven’t told you in a while, but you’re the reason for it all.
You’re a vital complication I never seem to resolve.”
I say,
“Why all this silence?”
You answer,
“Mind’s been so violent, a tyrant.”
You’re boring me with stories
of your unproductive glory.
You say the only thing as good as that was me.
I put you in my bed again.
I take you down like medicine.
Revisit the same old regimen.
Just substitute the gentleman.
WITH GREAT POWER COMES GREAT RESPONSIBILITY
I am not allowed to want to die anymore.
Believe me, I have tried.
TONGUE TWISTER
Peter Piper
picked
a peck
of people
he could utilize.
Built
a better
batch
of music they could advertise.
But Peter
never learned the way that people compromise.
His only method to communicate was to harmonize.
He never
ever
spoke a word
when we were feuding.
Major to minor
like the color of a mood ring.
I only liked him when he’d play me something soothing.
Could understand him perfectly if he did it while producing.
Emotions come and go, they’re either lovely or abusing.
Maybe that’s the reason all my records are confusing.
We met in a studio and I couldn’t break the silence ’cause he was raised a Socialist
and I was raised on violence.
I had to be the best and he was fine with trying.
Sometimes he built me up, sometimes I was declining.
We got an apartment in a valley, it was low enough.
Just like the song, but we were far away from blowing up.
We fought like animals and did the same when making love.
I know that it seems crazy but I really couldn’t make it up.
The only time that it was easy was in transit.