#one
"Because," answered the princess, also stopping a safe distance away, "if I run I may fall down and break myself.""But couldn't you be mended?" asked the girl.
"Oh, yes. But no one is so pretty after being mended, you know," replied the princess.
Taking the money, the jewelry,
Breaking and entering,
Nothing but misdemeanors
Nothing but small scabs on my conscience
But I shouldn't have hit that girl
I shouldn't have killed that little girl.
Death row is but a dream now
They will keep me locked up in here for years
And feed me well
And treat me well
And let me watch all the damned TV I please
And let me do anything to keep me from falling asleep.
I will live until I'm nearly 100.
I am already dead.
#two
The thunderstorm only lasted minutes
- no, seconds
but trees are still uprooted nonetheless
powerlines ripped
the roads undriveable
and a man left dead in a ditch.
Come thirty years
- no, thirty weeks
- no, thirty days
the storm will be remembered
as passing clouds
as ornaments of the sky
as everpresent gardeners.
The widowed mother
will be the only to remember
to remember the storm
to remember his face in the one of her son.
#three
(weathermen and the burden of being)
(weathermen and the burden of being)
The last time we spoke it was raining
And with each passing drop the water level rose
I didn't even notice you were drowning
While I nodded my head and sounded grunts of intrigue
While you flailed your arms and were gasping for breath
The storms of life are silent to those who don't listen
And rainbows seldom occur
After jumping forty-seven feet.
Everyone's last home is wooden box
That has no need for flood insurance.
The man who reads the eulogy doesn't read
the weather reports of your last days.
The woman dressed in black has never been outside without an umbrella,
regardless if it rains or not.
The children still don't understand that their
father won't be home for dinner.
Though the storm has ended
no one remembers it's occurence.
