Could I hitchhike a ride back to the Bermuda triangle?
You see, I drank a quarter of tequila and half a bottle of nyquil,
and if I don’t act fast I may run my face into the pavement.
I stumble forward and give a wink to the Queen of Swords
who acknowledges my white teeth and turns away in a huff,
something to do with bleach on her new red dress
and a noisy neighbor who likes to play roller derby at 4 in the morning.
Can I get your address?
61616, turn left at the Gates of Valhalla?
Hmmm, that sounds vaguely familiar...
like an allusion to Odysseus or that Poltergeist movie in the 80s:
I tried to take neither one too seriously.
If I concentrate,
I can feel how fast your blood is pumping...
was that a sign of the times or a sign of my sanity?
Well honey it depends-
if you just peep out through the cut out hole
in the cardboard castle you built when you were nine,
or if you burn down the whole damn thing and look to the moon,
the ash still sizzling under your bare feet.
I feel as if I am walking around with a voodoo doll pinned to my back,
oooh, that can not be the way to go
says the fat lady,
wearing a kimono and a dolly parton wig
in the cake aisle at the grocery store.
Just pin me up already
to your memory board of things to do,
I can hang next to the blue post-it note that reminds you to buy new underwear
and the napkin with the mustard stain.
Oh yes, you should be praying to your idols
that the cops came to the scene before I got my hands on you.
I wanted to short-circuit your brain
and re-wire you to the leaky faucet in the bathroom,
at least fixing the plumbing problem in the process.
Am I too intense?
Did Dorian Gray like being stuck in that portrait?
Now, I shall bow my head in silence, and take my leave...
through the back door that smells like a morphine drip and sex.
-Megan Coleman
You see, I drank a quarter of tequila and half a bottle of nyquil,
and if I don’t act fast I may run my face into the pavement.
I stumble forward and give a wink to the Queen of Swords
who acknowledges my white teeth and turns away in a huff,
something to do with bleach on her new red dress
and a noisy neighbor who likes to play roller derby at 4 in the morning.
Can I get your address?
61616, turn left at the Gates of Valhalla?
Hmmm, that sounds vaguely familiar...
like an allusion to Odysseus or that Poltergeist movie in the 80s:
I tried to take neither one too seriously.
If I concentrate,
I can feel how fast your blood is pumping...
was that a sign of the times or a sign of my sanity?
Well honey it depends-
if you just peep out through the cut out hole
in the cardboard castle you built when you were nine,
or if you burn down the whole damn thing and look to the moon,
the ash still sizzling under your bare feet.
I feel as if I am walking around with a voodoo doll pinned to my back,
oooh, that can not be the way to go
says the fat lady,
wearing a kimono and a dolly parton wig
in the cake aisle at the grocery store.
Just pin me up already
to your memory board of things to do,
I can hang next to the blue post-it note that reminds you to buy new underwear
and the napkin with the mustard stain.
Oh yes, you should be praying to your idols
that the cops came to the scene before I got my hands on you.
I wanted to short-circuit your brain
and re-wire you to the leaky faucet in the bathroom,
at least fixing the plumbing problem in the process.
Am I too intense?
Did Dorian Gray like being stuck in that portrait?
Now, I shall bow my head in silence, and take my leave...
through the back door that smells like a morphine drip and sex.
-Megan Coleman
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