They’ll never say that about me again ⦾ I’ve been living like this for so long that I’m used to it ⦾ I’m in the shower, my head leaning against the tile ⦾ The water runs down my face, down my neck ⦾ My hands are moving through my hair, searching for knots ⦾ I massage my scalp ⋯ I massage my face ⦾ I run water down my breasts and stomach, then back up again ⦾ I lean forward and kiss the spray from above
When I'm in the water, eyes closed, I see the world like I'm looking through a telescope ⦾ I feel this way when I'm in the water ⋯ a sharp ringing in my ears ⋯ a sense of being watched ⋯ God's birds circling overhead, but not visible through the water ⦾ As if I were alone on the lake, but was somebody else under the surface
She's everybody's baby-sitter ⋯ but nobody's baby ⦾ She is the baby-sitter you call, because you have nowhere else to go ⦾ She always answers the phone ⋯ So sorry, I'm already booked. ⦾ She's the one who says, I'm sorry, I can't make it tonight, but would you like me to come tomorrow? ⦾ And then she's the one who says, You're a smart boy. You know your life. Take care of yourself. ⦾ She's the girl you might have met before ⋯ but can't remember her name ⦾ Her name is Yolanda ⋯ She's a night virtuoso ⦾ She's a devil-may-care vixen in a satin slip ⦾ She's a tall blonde with an uncanny resemblance to Oprah Winfrey ⦾ She's what you get when you cross the Cocteau Twins with Madonna
First dates should always be in daylight but shaded, since the sun is too much at that stage of the game ⦾ But if it has to be at night … well, without the moon we’d be blind, so let it hang there but mute, in the background
A northern star can serve as a guide, but it has to work more as a metaphor for adventure and discovery ⋯ as a practical matter, we all make our own way
Long drives to see his mother for Christmas ⋯ father chain smoking Camels (unfiltered) with all the windows rolled up and the vents closed against the cold ⦾ I'd stare out the window at farm houses while my parents, up front, listened to a sequence of local AM stations ⦾ The radio crackled with static every forty-odd miles ⦾ You're a ghost in the machine he said to me once ⦾ And Yeah, he'd say, Hell is like this. White on black.
I saw those lines as a black-and-white movie running in reverse ⋯ the blur of trees and cows and houses like a fast-forwarded film ⦾ In the dark the dashboard lights became campfires in the distance ⦾ I'd stare at her back as she smoked Chesterfields through a slim ivory holder, the tip glowing like a hovering meteor
It was supposed to be a bang, was downgraded to a whimper, but turned out to be closer to an asthma attack ⦾ No entertainment value to speak of ⋯ just color-coded charts and actuarial tables ⦾ We never even got jetpacks. Just apps atop stacks that can't scale
The apps were for buying add-ins and subscriptions ⋯ you'd only bought the handle of the razor ⦾ Instead of time travel we wound up with time-shares, followed by robocalls and spam on how to cancel those contracts ⦾ The Twitter-sphere is not a utopia of civic engagement ⋯ it's an anthill on a plate ⦾ The cloud is not a metaphor for our interconnectedness ⋯ it's just a place where you can't find your files ⦾ The Internet isn't a panopticon ⋯ it's just a place where you can't take a dump with any privacy ⦾ There are no signs of intelligence in the universe ⋯ only signs of intelligence in marketing departments ⦾ We were supposed to be able to fly and instead we got drones
I've got this most American of desire ⋯ the one that sends me to the store for a new shirt (sage green) or a toaster oven, or a new leather jacket, without putting much thought into it ⦾ I'm a sucker for sales, and I'm a collector ⦾ Desire makes me dangerous ⦾ I want to be liked and admired ⦾ I want to be guarded but understood ⋯ invisible yet invincible
Which is why I choose to look like a leopard ⦾ I'm not the only one. Most of us do ⦾ The Americans who fought in Vietnam, we all did ⦾ Wearing the uniforms of our enemies and the skins of our prey, we came home to become doctors and lawyers and teachers ⦾ We married and had children and built homes on the bones of the dead and on the backs of the poor, just like we always wanted to ⦾ And we're still hungry for more than what we've got ⦾ Our nation's deadliest predator, our dollar bill, loves shiny things ⦾ Our dollar bill thinks that in the right hands it might find God, who has an eye for style and value
I drive back to our place, I say “I will never leave you again.” I’ll drink what you drink, I’ll smoke what you smoke, and I’ll see your friends if you see mine ⦾ I’ll be sleeping with the enemy ⋯ solitary confinement in a small bed
You're thinking ’bout moving your stuff out of my room ⋯ I’m thinking ’bout leaving your stuff in it, then I’m thinking ’bout leaving my stuff in it, too ⦾ You won’t have to admit defeat, I’ll do it for you ⦾ I'll say I want no part of this. And I don’t ⦾ A motorcycle engine idling in the street below ⦾ I just want to run up to it and rip off the gas cap ⦾ What's that smell? you'd ask, then Offer him a beer.
But I don’t want another beer, I just want to smell the gas ⦾ I can smell it for hours sometimes, that smell of speed
The little mice sang on the frozen beach, beyond the reach of the old woman’s feet, and the moon shone like a golden medallion on the bare breast of the sleeping sea ⦾ Without a single word, but with a smile that seemed to say Goodnight, sweet dreams.
And then the little mice scampered away into the moonlight, and the old woman folded her hands, and slept until morning ⦾ And in the morning, she woke up and said I’m going to paint everything red today.
Solar eclipse over Columbia, among magnolia and monuments ⦾ Birds shriek and seek nests in two o'clock dusk ⦾ A cooling of the air as the cars slow and stop ⦾ Then god's raging black face is revealed at last, impotent and wild-haired, straining to strike ⦾ Philosophers and children cower in darkened rooms ⦾ The shadows of leaves and the shadows of clouds are largely the same ⦾ The sky has been utterly blotted