It’s like a horrible scene from a monster movie,
insides on the outside, rips and tears and gaping holes.
Both of my pillows went to pieces at the same time.
insides on the outside, rips and tears and gaping holes.
Both of my pillows went to pieces at the same time.
Today from Amazon I ordered two new pillows.
But since my new pillows won’t arrive until Thursday
I have to use these until then. I scrunch them down tight
into pillowcases and hope by pressing them hard
the pressure will keep the stuffing in for two more nights.
And as if this wasn’t enough to worry about
when I swiveled my big bright light to take that picture
one of the metal—metal!—braces cracked right in half
so now my big bright light is stuck in one position.
And I still haven’t figured out my notebook problems.
What’s next: Nation-wide power grid going to go down?
Monsters got my pillows. And they got my big bright light.
If I were a scientist I would know what to do
but I’ve got three or four notebooks scattered around here
so I don’t even know where I should write about this
and to be honest I feel like I’m a scientist
but my laboratory’s falling apart around me.
I don’t think a fast course in insect pathology
is the answer but in the middle of this wreckage
I’m not even sure of that. There’s one thing I’m sure of:
If I had you to talk to—if you were a plucky
woman reporter—you wouldn’t hold me and hug me
and comfort me right now, you’d just laugh and shake your head
and make one of those faces I’ve seen too many times.
This is why mad scientists laugh but this is why they
never end up living happily ever after.
But since my new pillows won’t arrive until Thursday
I have to use these until then. I scrunch them down tight
into pillowcases and hope by pressing them hard
the pressure will keep the stuffing in for two more nights.
And as if this wasn’t enough to worry about
when I swiveled my big bright light to take that picture
one of the metal—metal!—braces cracked right in half
so now my big bright light is stuck in one position.
And I still haven’t figured out my notebook problems.
What’s next: Nation-wide power grid going to go down?
Monsters got my pillows. And they got my big bright light.
If I were a scientist I would know what to do
but I’ve got three or four notebooks scattered around here
so I don’t even know where I should write about this
and to be honest I feel like I’m a scientist
but my laboratory’s falling apart around me.
I don’t think a fast course in insect pathology
is the answer but in the middle of this wreckage
I’m not even sure of that. There’s one thing I’m sure of:
If I had you to talk to—if you were a plucky
woman reporter—you wouldn’t hold me and hug me
and comfort me right now, you’d just laugh and shake your head
and make one of those faces I’ve seen too many times.
This is why mad scientists laugh but this is why they
never end up living happily ever after.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ghosts Aren’t What They Used To Be
I Can’t Sleep In My Kitchen
Pop Music: Woman As Reporter
The Torn Picture Of A Guitar
A Shattered Chessboard
Insect Pathology And You: The Musical
“Indiana Wants Me” (I Can’t Go Back There)
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