sometimes it tickles when you say a word like
"cheesed"
or "shmuck"
and i want to pull you right out of your dirt saturated overalls
and plant a fat one on your cheek
as deep as the roots
of all the goods that you have taught me to plant

out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes ***
writes songs and stories
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the *** is just as good or better.
it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work ...
it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking
listening to the waves ...

I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...
out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another
it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in
the dark.

i'll sweep after you
with specks of your scattered dirt
marking my insides

i think somebody is nibbling on my brain
and throwing ******* in my front yard

i think that it's a he
and he is 70 years old
and he forgot his wife's name

my name is Edith
and i think my old man needs help

i can help you find your ghost

the one that opens up the doors to your porch
and lets your cat out
when you swore you locked up

the one that crawls into bed with you
and you can't decide if it's warm or cold

the one that turns up the stove burner
so that your eggs aren't sunny-side up
like you wanted
but so that they are fried

(and you actually like it)

my name is Edith
and his is Eden
isn't that
sweet

sometimes
i light a cigarette
and i let it burn like incense
and i hear you exhale
and chuckle (but probably not at something i said)
and i see your shadows dancing with the smoke

and i wonder
why my gravity
doesn't keep you here

curtsies and torn *****-hose
i am the the tiny pieces of dust you inhale
how does somebody tear my *****-hose for me
if i have already done it myself?