The Queen Of Catalpa Street

She walks down the street like she owns the place,

Like she could just walk up to any house and say, "baby...go" and they'd have to move out,

To Coldwater, or Bad Axe,

Just because she said so,

And just because she makes you want to bend to her will.

She walks down the street kinda arrogant and strong, like she just put a hotel on Boardwalk and she's gonna win...

You know it.

She knows it.

She swings her arms all casual, like she's used to holding women;

She wears jeans, hiking boots, a red flannel shirt and mittens,

And her long straight dark hair flows out behind her like a beautiful lackey,

As if she were The Queen Of Catalpa Street.



She's on her way to Blockbuster or 7-11,

Or her older, married, female lover's house,

Where they will sweep the shit out from under the Christmas tree and make love.

Afterward, Jen,

or Anne,

or Steph,

Or whatever her name is, will sigh at her back as she lets herself out, and it will take her half an hour to find baby Jesus again and

Set him in the bed of the toy train's coal car without thinking.



She is on her way to Blockbuster or 7-11;

I am on my way to The Coffee Beanery in my car with the rainbow sticker on the back,

But I wish I was with her,

In her hotel on Boardwalk,

With my fingers spread on the soft flannel at the small of her back,

Later to unlace her hiking boots with my teeth,

From my knees,

Because she is so butchy

And beautiful,



And she walks down the street like she owns the place,

Like she still has some lucky woman's taste on her lips,

Like she could toss her hair, the Queen Of Catalpa Street,

Glance over at my car and say,

Lady,

Get ready to beg so pretty,

Because, really,

It's you

Who needs

The ride.

_________

(Christmas Eve, 2006. Revised 7/7/10)

_________

one shot wednesday

Room Service

I brought you breakfast on a tray.

It lifted its head and its narrow, evil tongue flicked in and out.

It's leathery foot dangled off the silver edge,

And a lemon wedge fell.



"What is this?" you said.

"Shay, what the fuck is this?"

I said,

"It is love given and received.

It is something to do while waiting for Judgement to scorch its way through the atmosphere,

Like a needle into skin."

I sat on the edge of the bed,

Picked up your hand and kissed each finger,

Finding them redolent of me, moreso than my own bones.



I went on:

"It is foul,

It is poison.

It is me paying you back in kind."

But you were already gone,

And I was only talking to myself.

___________

I Wasn't Looking, But There You Were

I wasn't looking, but there you were,
Such a sexy dream
Looking for someone,
Searching for someone
Who hadn't heard
Oh, Sweetheart,
Who hadn't heard your shit before.

I wasn't looking, but still you came,
Such a sweet talker
Looking for someone,
Searching for a country fool
Who hadn't heard
Oh, Sugar,
Every lame and empty line before.

You and me in a beautiful pea green boat,
Is this love?
Is this some kind of joke?
I'm not laughing.
Do you see me laughing?
Oh, wait,
You are. (I'm such a bloody bore.)

I wasn't looking, but there you were,
Searching for some simple rube
To leave hypnotized and stupid.
Oh, Honey,
It's me
It's me
It's obviously me.
___________

A Lover's Apology

Tell me, Darling,

Despite the pain,

Before you

Leave with what's-her-name,

How did we

Come to this?

How did we

Come to this?



Last night--

So bittersweet;

Champagne

Between your feet...

I loved you,

Yes I loved you still

As you were so gracefully

Being ill...



Our three weeks together

Will live forever

Inside my heart.



Tell me, Darling,

Despite the tears,

And the ruin

Of both of our careers,

How did we

Come to this?

How did we

Come to this?



Tell me, Sweetheart,

Before you go

Honey, please

I've got to know

Did you love me?

Do you love me still?

Or would you rather

Cut me dead where I stand?



Our three weeks together

Will live forever

Inside my heart

Like a sado-masochistic Disneyland;

I'm sorry

I'm so truly sorry

It's come to this.
_________

4th of July Love Song

"Baby," you say,

As we sail around Saginaw Bay,

"I am as constant as that black shit all over the beach

I'm always within reach

And I'll always be loving you just this very way."



Oh baby,

When your lips are moving

What it's doing to me

Oh sugar,

When your lips

~such lips!~

Are moving,

Things are clearer to me

When your lips are moving

That's how I know you're lying.



You say, "Honeybun,"

As you shoplift a pack of gum,

"I am as constant as this always-open convenience store

You'll always want more

And I'll always be here to give you some..."



But baby,

When your lips are moving

It's like Heaven to me

Oh Pookie,

When your lips

~those lips!~

Are moving,

Truth gets nearer to me

When your lips are moving

That's how I know you're lying.



"Snookums," you say,

As we're navigating by the stars,

"I am as constant as the patient voice on the voicemail of your mind

You will always have my heart

And we'll always be happy just the way we are."



But Princess,

When your lips are moving,

It's enchanting to me

Oh sweetie,

When your lips

~such lips!~

Are moving,

You're even dearer to me

When your lips are moving

That's how I know you're lying.

______

Cocoanut Farm

The bitchy hen lays black eggs--

Even the fox won't touch them.

The bitchy hen has it in for both the farmer and the rooster--

And when one of her nasty black eggs cracks open,

An impenetrable night is born.

The rooster begins to lose purpose, as the lightless hours go on and on;

The farmer sleeps for a week.



The bitchy hen's mood improves, and when the sun finally bursts, all at once, into the sky

(as if it had been being held back by colossal, fire-retardant rubber bands),

She lays a black-and-white egg.

It turns out not to be an egg at all, but rather, an unusually spherical calf,

Whose legs and head have not yet arrived in the mail.



So it goes at Cocoanut Farm, which is actually a ginormous boat,

Or, perhaps, some sort of unmoored island with a barn on it.



Stay for breakfast.

We're having eggs.

Stay for dinner.

We're having chicken.

Stay, stay and meet our Queen,

The chattiest cow

You've ever seen.

(painted green).

Don't worry,

You'll see.

_________

Clearly, my once-considerable talent has hit rock bottom with this, lol.

_________

Fireblossom, Chosen By God, Unleashes Super Powers

Twin, Twin. Have you fallen on your head or something? This morning I awoke to find that my beloved Twin, Riot Kitty, had gotten on her blog and spouted something about Wonder Woman needing to cover up. Has she completely taken leave of her senses? Or is this simply part of the heterosexual agenda? You know, Twin, I've been prepared to overlook that about you, even though it's not what God wants, and yes, I do speak for God. She said to me, "Shay, sugar, deal with these earthlings for me, won't you? I've got mah jong!"

If Wonder Woman starts wearing some awful green pantsuit from K Mart, where does it all end?

Zatanna in a snuggie?

Batwoman (who is now a lesbian, by the way, pleasing God) in a bhurka?

Red Sonja (Ily???) in sensible shoes?

I don't think that I can bear it, and so I am taking it upon myself to save Zatanna, at least. (picture courtesy of the amazing Mrs. Mars, though I think it looks suspiciously like Mama Zen. Maybe not.) 

Won't someone save Wonder Woman?

And Batwoman, too?

Remember, some fashion mistakes can never be undone or outlived. Twin, please remember, a generation of little girls needs role models. It's Zatanna or Greta Van Susteren. Need I say more?

______________