Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Assignment #1

I was supposed to think of someone I've seen in the past week--a stranger--whose look, gesture, or demeanor stuck out to me and imagine what they could be thinking. I chose this guy on the plane from Dallas to Phoenix who kept staring at this depressed-looking man in a suit three aisles up. And so, Mr. 8C, this one's for you:

You took my girl or she took you,
I'd rather never know--
The evilest of evil deeds,
An out-of-body blow.
I hated her, I hated you,
And never could see how
To move on, then it came to me,
The bitch is all yours now!

Your money, son, your sanity,
Your pride and self-esteem
Are victims of her vanity,
You'll soon see what I mean.

The doting side of flattering
The calling-just-to-chat
The "don't get up, I'll get you one"
The caring for her cat
The meeting her at baggage claim
The "not tonight, I'm tired"
The Visa card was just declined
The trust fund you just sired

Your money, son, your sanity,
Your pride and self-esteem
Are victims of her vanity,
You're catching what I mean.

You bill your clients for your golf,
Then come home to a cot.
The marriage-bed too cold a place
Whose purpose you forgot.
Meanwhile, the pool is glowing green,
And Carlos must be called.
How funny, after six whole months,
He still can't get it all.

Your money, son, your sanity,
Your pride and self-esteem
Are victims of her vanity,
You now know what I mean.

The hot affair has long since cooled,
Congealing into rote.
And now, by God, you've seen them both,
The beam and now the mote.
And when the weight of all the years
Comes crashing 'round your head,
You'll sigh and then await the tears
That should be mine instead.

Your money? Gone. Your sanity?
You killed it with Jim Beam.
The victim of your vanity
Is you, and you're picked clean.

Your money bought her SUV,
You sit there breathing steam
That you can neither smell nor taste
But ends your nightmare dream.