Sunday, February 6, 2011

Fuck the Steelers

I don't know anything about the Steelers.
I don't know anything about football.
I'm sure if I was ever at one time good at it, or if I had ever tried it, then I would have taken interest, and pursued.
Oh, lord wont you buy me, a two bedroom condo.
Wrote hard all my lifetime, nothing to show.
I have to say, waiting is the worst.
To be perfectly honest, all you ten or so followers, I have applied to Columbia College (MFA Poetry).
It seemed like the next step for me.
I wanted it.
I applied.
I filled it all out.
My electronic bulletin board tells me that all has been received.
And we have to remind ourselves that that is a win.
We have to remind ourselves that there was a rhyme with a time when getting out of bed meant we would shortly most definitely be hanging from the shower in no time at all, as in can't go on. As in might as well just lye still.
As in can't talk.
I remember saying that, I remember sitting down in acting class, and saying; guys, I'm here, but I can't talk. Nothing is going to come out. I just want you to know, that I'm here, but I cannot talk. I cannot speak.
I said that many times.
It sounds so utterly dramatic, but it was as articulate as I could muster.
There was a lot of nothing in that place.
It was all a waste.
I hate my father.
My father is not my father.
He came to the show in August with his latest whore.
I stood by the garbage can for a good forty five.
I couldn't talk.
I know a lot about garbage cans.
I used to eat out of his garbage can nightly.
I couldn't eat or talk at that Highland Park table.
I would wait till late at night when everyone else was asleep, and I would steel away to the sliding can, and I would eat Tuesdays crust, and suck Sundays lemons,
With abandon.
Dr. Un Rooley came to the show in December.
What a difference a man makes.
What a lifetime a friend makes.
What a family a boy makes.
What a lucky a girl is.
After all of that.
After Linda's and Tom's.
And bugs on sidewalks on screaming on courtrooms.
Yes, my last name is Anne.
And I will not take your bath.
I will not take it to my bed.
I will not put it with my dead.
Anne I am.

My months are measured in men, always a surprise that I am straight,
Skin and Toast

PS: Don't be confused. Friend Boy is my only. Un Rooley is like a Dempsey. It's not sexual. Those girls with issues who wanted to bone their teachers. I never did that. I like friend boy cause he's skinny. And cause he's the only. Not that I thought you would thought that I was implying any anything. I think the Steelers just won. I mean the Packers, the meat packers. Oh, pack that shit.

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