I've been waiting for a while Since I ran off from the aisle. That collared dress Was cutting me Off. I've been sitting in Seattle, Well, Ain't that half the battle, Knowing yourself Well enough To be leaving When the lights've grown too Hot? My toenails are broken, My shirt's ripped right open, I've been chewing off The sides of my Lip. Heard the beasts in the alley Call themselves “Bonnie” and “Sally”, And offering to take Me On a trip. "Ooh, well me? I'll go Any- Where!" I Quipped. Bonnie used to be a sculptor 'Fore she learned to please a man, But should've Known that that was coming, Was always so good with her hands. He broke into her kitchen, threw her art out on the floor. Left her cash As she was Running out the door. Now she's been Hiding from That bristled buck And working as A Whore. Sally's not much of a talker, She's been knitting Bon a scarf To cover up the scar On her lip So men can't see it In the dark. She smiled at a novelist Then he left her In the snow. Now she's got two scarves Drawn up on her wrists, Calls 'em “Marlon” And I think “Brando”. We drove off to Michigan Not knowing Where to run. I've been thinking for a while Of my father And his gun. Firing it At the folks Who he said had been disturbed, Clawing At the buildings And mangling Their words. When I was down in Michigan, Said they could leave me here. Went into a dusked motel, Showed them my bra For a beer. The owner, Well he's a narcissist And likes kicking at the rocks, When he's not sitting At the poolside And admiring His socks. I walked from there To Illinois, Where I grew up In the fall, But got paralyzed And incontinent When I saw the shadows On the wall. I slept down In a field that night, Not knowing where to hide. Is he still running off To get me? I will not Become his bride. I guess someone must have Told the man, I was resting in the corn, Woke up To a stark black colony Standing on my hair, Badge And hat Adorned. They brought me in To see the worst as all my faith was shorn, Tendered into Some kind of smock, Delivered to The devil's First son born. His teeth were crooked And out of sync, He laughed As if to clear the air. But it only caused me to cough And hardened Up The atmosphere. He chuckled as I was sputtering, "Why, you look worse for wear, Didn't know you Still liked To run. Now come on Back my dear, You've been burnt up By the sun". I turned to barrel Out the door But their forearms All were cocked. He said "oh c'mon here darlin' See I'd only like to talk. You've got blood on your wedding gown, You thought You had knocked Me off? Honey-child, Your mind is a barricade, From things you can't Abscond". There are highway gods And aliens, I've been praying to them Since they shut me up In the clink. Don't know if I believe in 'em Anymore. In truth, I've gained more From the kitchen sink. I hear them sometimes, Wandering, Catch the curtness in their words Bout two girls who died out west And a balding motel manager, All strangled By Some sort Of bridal Dress.

In the early mornin’ I think I might hear Your name. Screaming from the mountains Oh lady Return from The flame. In the rush of the evenin’ The stars threaded through Your Hair. There’s a rush In the evening And Catherine I wish you Were there. There’s a tremblin’ In this city The horns bleat An old Man’s tune. Oh Catherine M’lady How I wish I Could come back To you. Green eyes Fall back Into My Arms. Oh Catherine M’lady I’m wounded And have been Disarmed. Cold and Unfamiliar The world After Your face But one day My Catherine I’ll be flying Through Your space. And yes my friend I’ll come back again, Your arms the only place I feel Safe. So goodnight My Catherine, ’Til then I’ll be Dreamin’ of your face

I take my time, It’s not enough. Never touched your skin, But I still got Cut. And I’m not fine But I guess I’m Good enough. I’ll smile When I meet your eyes ‘Cause I’m oh- So tough. I’m not a slut for Subtlety, You have to know How much you Hurt me. I’m not one to keep quiet About what is true: You know how much I care For you. Yeah you know how much I care for You. Evade your steps, Or walk straight Towards you? I’m still too Upset To just Ig- Nore you. You’re on my mind But your hands In your pockets Stay Tucked, Perilously close To mine But just far Enough. I’m not a fool I know the score. I have to know I’m not What you’re asking for. Won’t shame myself In front of you, Because you know how much I care For you. Yeah you know how much I care for You. Smile politely Then you leave. Smile politely Then you leave. Some revenant ghost, You stay with me. Some revenant ghost, Belligerent Memory. Stand there and fight me, Can’t you See It’s not fair That I can’t Accept it And move on From this defeat? But you smile politely Then you leave Knowing that You don’t owe Anything To Me. Smile politely Then you leave (Some revenant, some revenant ghost) Smile politely Then you Leave (Some revenant ghost, you stay with me) Smile politely Then you Leave (Some revenant ghost, you stay with me) Smile politely ‘Cause I can’t leave.

Everyone I love Is an old dead White man. I prefer old dead white men ‘Cause they can’t talk back, They’re dead. They’re peeling flesh, They have no tongue, Their lives are Done. My best friends Are old dead White men. At least that’s what my actual friends say, None of which Are old dead white men. “Rebecca please, Go outside! John Adams has been dead Since 18- 26.” “I appreciate how you Begin to remember these things,” I say to my friends After I talk about John Adams Once again. I refer to all My old dead white men As “Baby boys”. Despite the fact they’re not baby boys, They’re old dead White men. I speak about them affectionately ‘Cause they’re dead And they can’t talk back. Is objectification of a dead body Kind of wack? My favorite people Are old dead White men. I can give them complex ideas, More complex than the ones They actually had. I write all my songs about them. Just because you haven’t heard my songs About old dead white men Doesn’t mean that they’re not coming Or they’re not Already there. I’m just too far self-conscious To put them out Anywhere. Y’know, These old dead White men Judge. All my songs Are about Old dead White men, Even the ones that are about me Are technically about Old dead white men. I’ve always considered myself An old dead White man. Despite the fact I’m not actually dead, And I’m not old, At least that’s not yet. But all my friends are old dead White men, Except my friends Who are not Old dead White men. I have a diverse set of friends, None of which Are old dead White men. I don’t hang out In cemeteries, This is not “Harold and Maude”. I have so many songs About Old dead white men, I should have An old dead white man Convention, Otherwise known as “Plato’s Symposium”. I have so many songs About Old dead white men, That I should have An old dead white man Convention, Otherwise known as “Plato’s Symposium”. Just a side-note: Was Plato actually a person In addition to Socrates? My theory is that Socrates and Plato Are the same person, Socrates wrote nothing, Plato wrote it all. What if Plato used Socrates As a mask Because he was too insecure For the Greeks and all? Y’know how these Old dead white men are, But this inquiry Won’t get me far, Because that was too Fucking long ago To be relevant Now. Old dead White Men.