So Badly

The following is not a song about my ex. That would be too easy, too obvious, and frankly, he doesn't deserve to be enshrined in song and you, dear reader, deserve more. I will say, however, that my life has been long and a heart can be crushed in all manner of ways. So be mindful not to assume. Because when you assume, you make an assu out of me.

Hit it, Monty.



First I recognized its shape
the color, make and model
The first three letters cinched it and
my breathing slowed to shallow then I

peaked in all the cafes
I was mindful of my crusty, healing heart,
it’s depth and scope
This town’s too big for both of us

(Chorus)
I hoped you wouldn’t see me
and then I hoped you would
I hoped I wouldn’t see you
then I wanted to so bad, so badly

Hoped you wouldn’t see me
and then I hoped you would
I hoped I wouldn’t see you
'cause I want you still so bad

A block away I saw you
You looked good, were stepping lively
I slowed way down to watch you
then I willed you to please turn around

I hoped you’d fall in a sewer grate
of piranhas and hot lava then-I
scaled it back-to just piranhas
‘cause deep down I’m forgiving

You didn’t turn around cause you were
chatting with someone, she was a blonde

(Song stops)

Singer says to accompanist, “It’s always a blonde.”
He answers, “Pretty much, yeah.”

(Song resumes)

You smiled while you were talking
Your life is clearly perfect so I
hoped you would be eaten alive
by a boa constrictor

Then I dialed it back to just maimed
by a fire breathing wart hog
with rabies and bad dandruff
‘cause deep down I’m forgiving

I walked into the café
then spotted where you’d just been sitting
Your seat was still warm
You seemed so close but were so far

I ordered what you would have had
if we were still together
Then I changed my mind and thought fuck you
and ordered a BLT!

(Chorus)
I hoped you wouldn’t see me
and then I hoped you would
I hoped I wouldn’t see you
then I wanted to so bad, so badly

Hoped you wouldn’t see me
and then I hoped you would
I hoped I wouldn’t see you
'cause I want you still so bad

Hoped I wouldn’t see you
'cause I want you still so bad

Signing

The other night I was at the book reading of a friend of a friend's. She's a sharp cookie and hilarious lesbian (yes, you heard me right) as her writing and especially her storytelling deftly communicates. I was in awe. But at the same time thought, "Hey, I can do that." I can get my books published and go to bookstores and read my work and chat with the hoi polloi and sign their books and make nice. I have attractive handwriting and no germ phobias or fear of public speaking. I'm your gal.

I was feeling good about my new life as a published book-signin' author when I wandered into the conversation being held by the two warm-up authors who had read first in the evening's line-up and a third guy who was also a published author, though not a lesbian, as well as something alarmingly called a Live Fiction Critic, yikes. They were discussing how they sign their books when at their own book readings. They said things like, "If they've bought this book, I sign it this way, and if they've bought my other book I usually sign it another way." And how they always ask if the person wants an inscription or just an autograph in case they plan to resell it on e-bay. They weren't preening, they were just harmlessly swapping tricks of the trade.

I felt as if I were surrounded by earnest mid-western beauty queens trading tips on how they polish and maintain the high luster of their rhinestone tiaras.

They were generous to include me in their conversation, and perfectly friendly, I might add, especially since I had absolutely nothing to add. I suppose I could have tried to interject a dry little ditty about signing Christmas cards, but I didn't bother. Too much of a reach, and these lesbians weren't nearly as funny. So I just listened, trying to soak up the other team's play book, that of Published Authors.

I wonder if they knew I felt like an anxious puppy with my wet slobbery nose pressed up against the cage, panting and drooling with wild desire. I wonder if they know that I'm next.