Um, you like poetry? ‘cause…’cause I wrote you a thing. It’s just this…(he fumbles around in his pocket, pulls out a tattered piece of paper) it’s on this paper. It’s it’s called a limerick. I mean…I mean that’s not the title. I mean structure or something of…the…poem. Here it goes. It’s called "Tonight."

There once was a beauty named Kate

She and I went on a date

We went to the dance

We both took a chance

And stayed out til it was really late.

Did you like it? My mother always wanted me to be a poet in my free time. Y’know like how parents dream of their sons being baseball stars? My mom had big plans for me to morph into some kind of e.e. cummings. But I‘d just write some silly words like,

My intentions the moon cannot see,

They hide behind the clouds at day–

Honey that is the worst piece of yuckypoopoodoodoocaacaa I’ve ever heard. Poetry should be romantic not abstract. Poetry should describe your intentions, not the source that hinders them. (she smiles gaily)

So I wrote a poem describing my intentions:

With cards and candy, I have no use,

I want to suck on the apples of your cheeks until I make apple juice.

Inappropriate.

Anyway, enough about my Mom. Uh…so what else can we talk about…um, well, we can talk about those dimples you got there. Those dimples are great. They’re so deep. Like inverted pimples. But deeper. (long pause) I want to stick the tip of my tongue in there and make a fart noise with my spit. (catches himself off-guard). I’m just KIDDING. (laughing at himself, nervously). Who DOES that? (silence) So poetry! We should…go back to that…um…so this one time in 4^TH grade I was required to write a poem and that was bad. They were Thanksgiving limericks. Mother didn’t like mine too much:

Thanksgiving comes but once a year

So sit down and have a beer

Eat a piece of pie

Cranberry on rye

And tell everyone that you’re a queer

Do you have something you’d like to tell me?

I said "No." She said,

Do you like boys?

I said "No." She said,

Do you want to kiss boys?

No!

On the lips?

NO!

Are you lying to me?

And I didn’t say anything. She slapped me–

And said,

God help you if you are. People like that die before they’re twenty, and their souls get trapped in a muddy sea of disembodied faces. Millions of blood-soaked voices are crying out all around you. You’re to blame. You’re to blame. Crying for help. Crying to be saved. Crying to escape their paralysis. You can’t see whose face is next to yours, whose headless body is walking around a mile away. All you see is God’s foot when he steps on your nose, places oily fingernails on the corner of your mouth and rips those lips right off so you look like THIS (shows) for the remainder of time in the world.

So she wrote me a new poem,

There once was a turkey named Pete

Who had the smelliest feet

One whiff of his toes

Through some hunter’s nose

And a hamburger he’d rather eat.

She got an A on the assignment.

Yesss!!!

I’m really sorry that I keep going on about her. I…I really kind of really like you Kate and maybe if you don’t mind me not being as smart as maybe you’d–

What’re you doing?

Nothing. I was just talking to this girl. She’s Kate.

No you’re not, you’re coming with me.

Mom please, I want to do this! I mean I’m being romantic and intentional and SHE’S A GIRL and–

Oh dear. Ohhhh dear no. No there won’t be any slipping away from mama. No slipping away from mama. (tugging) Come on, honey, for old times sake.

Oh jeez, do I have to remind you every time?

If you were just a little more independent…if you were just a little more romantic…

• October 14, 2005 - No Shame Iowa City
  

  Performed by Danielle Santangelo and Adam Hahn.

• October 13, 2006 - 20th Anniversary Week Without Shame (Iowa City)
  

  Performed by Danielle Santangelo and Adam Hahn.

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