One A.M.

     One a.m., should be in bed, another of the long nights of sitting bleary eyed in front of this screen done but Andy Gibb is telling me that he just wants to be my everything and all the songs my friend Joe and I danced to in junior high school are flying out Pandora’s box flinging 45’s in every direction. The Scarecrow was never very good at giving directions, that was why I liked him, we understood each other anyway. I got there.  We were talking about Eliza Doolittle and all the things I’m not, how every gal needs a place to cut loose and whoever else is standing around. Probably would have done better had I actually possessed more fear but that was never the case, flying out the end of every tunnel with a battle cry so fierce the Zombies ran the other direction because when you get to it and find out a woman like me is real, carries her own knife, it kinda scares the hell out of you. He said head west, and I was glad because I had wondered where I’d left it. Eliza, all the things that they think held her back but they didn’t know a damn thing about it, she didn’t want to be fixed, she thought her ugly spots were beautiful and worth admission to her chamber, she was okay with herself, what they thought was of no import. She was Cher so stunning then in that moment, her jeans so tight and those high boots, hair that had Rapunzel throwing a jealous fit.

    She said, “If you’re really pretty honey, you don’t get to be a grown woman not knowing about it, they don’t keep it a secret from you. And listen…” she leaned in. “Sweetheart, when they get catty with you, that’s when you know you got ’em.” She winked, ordered something that smelled like gasoline, drank it straight. “May you be in Heaven half an hour before the Devil knows you’re dead! Salud!”

     Do you know where the Scarecrow was when Dorothy found him? It wasn’t pretty. If he only had a brain then we might have some idea what was going on. Those I.Q. tests aren’t accurate you know, it’s your E.Q., according to Howard Gardner, but you digress and what was I talking about? Rip Torn and the $1.98 Beauty Show, here’s your bunch of carrots and a plastic crown from T,G,&Y, got that one in my trophy case, it’s a gem.

   There was something about a man who wanted to know that much about a woman, to understand the secret names she gave the trees and that she started an imaginary band called, “I Got Six” and the names she gave the songs she never wrote because who could possibly compete with the Bee Gees. Well, that was me. 

Because the world is a nasty place sometimes, illusions blow up, shatter the rooms and splinter the night, I wanted to have that love that thinks I made the moon and put it in the sky in just the perfect spot to glow on the water and part the darkness. Who am I to question anything, who am I that I should never question anything? Do androids dream of… how would I know? The telescope reaches out so far into the liquid plasma of what we call reality and I think, it is arrogance to pick up my pen to create some other world to disappear within but that isn’t true because I have never been arrogant. Does this world need improvement? Does it sometimes seem like the suggestion box is bottomless and positioned over a circular file? What does the world look like with its pants pulled up because…if you’ve seen one ass crack…

   Funny, funny, we used to be so funny, we laughed all day.

   Well, that’s how much I feel and think and want to create other worlds and stay in them sometimes thinking solace is in some corner there, that’s how much. Because at the end of the evening, where in the world is Carmen San Diego? All over the map baby, all over the map. I told you, the Scarecrow was lost without Dorothy, to say nothing of the others, because it is too much to think of them, and those who do not understand the need. Sit still and look pretty, because after you’ve been a pageant queen they offer you a job on the judges panel with a stack of cards that don’t look like much of a hand, man do I know how to play those cards, and what you really want to hear is how Joe Namath next to you, oh Joe, thinks you’re still a “Great Lady” when you …do whatever you do in the bar after and all the things you don’t talk about any more because discretion is perhaps the only remaining form of chivalry.  But where was I…

  Rambling discourse, rambling this course.

     They’ll probably say I spelled it wrong, i.e. regarding, if I could walk on water they’d just say I couldn’t swim, but what I really want to say is… it’s a full moon and I won’t back down but, could use some rest. Where is the love, couldn’t we all, use some rest, and what is that about, when did loneliness begin to breed, when did it become this disease?  Would you love me if I were more than a fantasy? We get low don’t we? “These are  some of my flaws, here, in this box, I brought them to our first date so you can look them over, see if there’s anything in there that’s unacceptable, if we get past that, then we can really get to know each other and see…if there is love.” We think we want to be loved for who we are, but what we want is to be forgiven for it and loved. Remember what we loved before all the things that hadn’t happened yet, before the world was shattered. I had heard some song in the distance and something about picking up, dusting off and starting again. Norma Desmond just got a chill.

And then I hear it…

Our song.

The hollow of your shoulder where I rest my head, feel your breath in my hair, catch you seeing what I smell like…in that moment, we fall in love over and over again, in that moment is every dream we ever had held with golden threads, the delicate lace of a wedding dress, of if I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody…wasn’t that in September…what year was it? We were so beautiful.

We are so beautiful.

What I want to say is…

Be strong.

I wanted for you to know love and to have enough of it to last through the moments.