make it ring, beautiful
you have to play innocent. you have to look stupid. i’m telling you, play the fool. when the time comes you’ll throw all the cards to the ground and rip their jugular from their neck with your teeth, but until then leave the cards in play and dance around the issue. innocent. because you can trust stupid people; you can’t trust devious ones, and the most devious ones act stupid. no one can say just how deep the rabbit hole goes, but mine goes farther than your oxygen tanks will last, so stay where you are and i’ll come to you.
have you eaten ibuprofen lately? they lace it with cocaina in this country and sell it to the three-eyeds. they stand in line like the terracotta warriors, seemingly eternal, riding the dark wave, and full of poetics. carve me a heart in a tree and i’ll call it my totem pole. when your getting hungry for a midnight snack i’ll club a seal leave it on the doorstep. when you’re angry with me you’ll hit me, and sometimes i”ll lock myself in my “study” to drop away into my own personal “ad infinitum” where i will hollow out a hole for my spirit and store my stories there, safely hidden from your eyes. you think you’ll be the first to go mad, but you know that i’ve been mad all along, in my hat and my suit, laughing all the way to self-exile and self-medication in the dunes of the far north, cold and frozen into harmlessness, sobbing over the wood-burning stove, making love to faulkner books and the notes i made in the margins of miller, having shallow affairs with the nine-to-fivers in my new midst, who i identify with, and bury myself in, and fade off into like a flea in a bedweave. you will never find me, and you wouldn’t care to try. i flee like all the greats have fled before me. i flee to the new world. i am not suited for these traditions. i have lived amongst the oppressed and have found a way out, and it has led to self-oppression. i am my own insider into reality, and the findings are revealing. stay away from me, lover bitch! keep your filthy sin off of me, and go back to nibbling apple peels in the apple grove…. i’ll be playing piano in the park. if you need to talk, i’m always here. my address never seems to change and you’ve known it since we’ve met. the telephone is on the wall; make it ring. i’ll be sitting patiently beside it, script in hand, lipstick applied. make it ring, beautiful baby blue, and we’ll take it from there.