I found the setlist at work on a Friday morning;
The stage was strewn with bits of confetti, a
Southpaw beer bottle cap, and a few errant riccola
Wrappers. My dad swore by those, you know.
So I was already in a bad mood.
The carpet was reasonably clean, though, and it
Didn’t take as long to set up as I had thought.
And I haven’t spoken to my father in seven years; all in all
The morning turned out to be pretty inconsequential.The second set began with a song called
Long Beach Fantasy
I remember snippets from e-mails a year
And a half ago -I am writing this song called
Long Beach Fantasy
I think you’ll like it-
And I remember the way the ground
Felt migrant underneath my knees
Kneading bottle caps and shredded paper
-Like confetti-
Behind the shed at the crab shack.
He must have loved it, you know.
A makeshift stage; an ultimate worship
The train roars by, and I laugh, standing
My hair flyaway in the aftermath.
He thought I was -so free-
Earlier, I was praying for just that.
It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.
Too small of a town for all these
Retired myths and legends.
Let’s be base: I sucked his cock, and he came
And I liked the way his stomach trembled beneath my hand,
Uncontrollably,
With the effort of expulsion.
That’s it.
Save your tawdry train tracks
Moon slivers and salt water breezes for
Your little girls and their bedtime stories.
Sing them a lullaby…
I guess he did.
It feels like that.
You know, I’m reading The Awakening again, and I wouldn’t
Have thought about it at all,
Save for my bookmark
Which is a setlist.
That I keep still, three months later
To remind me of what is truly inconsequential:
The cough drop in my back pocket.
