standing on the corner
Of half abused and unafraid
That’s what this is
When we’re going out to dinner
Standing in the line
I give you me
And you give me you
But it feels like we’re
Even with all
Our words

Or maybe I’m too
So if this is
An act …
is it getting harder to
Open the curtain
Let this show begin

What do you
Smoke for a suicide?
What do you write for a funeral
What do you wear
For a wedding?
Take a picture
it didn’t happen ….
When we were young
When we were
Before we became
Too much
Before we learned
To pretend

I met a woman
Who wrote a song
For women
Trapped in cages
She punched her piano
And smashed the faces
Of all the Christians

I met a woman who
Was art
She shaved her eyebrows
Just to draw them back
She’ll put a fist to your act
She wrote a book
And signed it
And then drew a penis
Because she was bored

I knew a woman
Who took your picture
And she got bored
So she threw it away

I don’t think
I remember
Feeling this way before
Do you remember ?
Aging ?
I don’t think it happens all
At once
But here we are
There’s no other way
But we don’t have to
Be so dull and rehearsed

You can still be you
It runs in the family
It runs
so close the curtain
You are not through.

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