Reporting live from the field one day,
I said ‘back to you’ in the usual way.
This time, instead of an empty chair,
there was you and we were on the air.
When the cameraman leaves the news truck,
When the cameraman leaves the news truck,
Starry night in a twig hut,
man, did I have the pot’s luck:
sitting next to you through the whole meal,
nice piece to start our reel.
We’ve done stories on fishless sushi,
nude hot springs, and victims of zombies.
Intersplicing the news feed with your choice vinyl leads.
Could it be you prefer me to a busty nurse interviewee?
We return from commercial with the evening news.
I’ve got a special announcement for the handsome man dressed in the velour suit.
You’re not tied down, but you got an anchor.
I’m not tied down, but I got an anchor.
We’ve got no regrets, and we haven’t even had the best part yet.
I’m hoping for dramatic features.
I’m hoping for foreign correspondence.
I want more smiles. How about you?
Track Name: Sack Lunch
The pre-pube found himself at home
His parents left him all alone
The pizza boxes of his heart
Empty before they start.
He said to me how can I know
That he’s the child of a ho
I said it’s written
All over your face.
He came to classes I visit
Asked what is love?
Do I miss it?
I said wherever you find it
It probably already is.
I bummed a bump
We woke up cold
And I said I’m stumped
He said don’t think
I said fine. I’ll see you tomorrow
Class resumed September 8th
I eyed him up when he came in late
He passed me a note that read
I’d love to meet you in your own bed.
I thought I’m way too old for this
He’s not 18. Don’t he get the gist
I said our ages, they don’t fit.
He said I am mature for my age
I said you don’t know you cannot gauge
You only know other kids your age.
He’s in my daughter’s cooking class
Wears an apron slung low on his ass
I thought wouldn’t it be fine
For us to leave and change our minds?
He said, I don’t know.
That don’t sound great
But me and pre-pube,
we found ourselves loving
and coveting the same Lord.
Lord, lord, lord, lord. News made it
all the way back home
Hubby said I left the kids alone
I said how could I love a 12 year-old boy?
I’ll see you tomorrow
You little chalkboard of a boy
Chalkboard as a toy
Break my heart, you boy.
Leave it on the sidewalk.
You fucking boys are all the same.
Oh, all the same.
Track Name: Designer Boyfriend
I’ll slap your back if you slap mine.
We’ll stand up straight and we won’t get tired.
We kiss like strangers, but fuck like flies.
In my book of touch, that’s three high-fives.
Ain’t too tender. Ain’t going head over heels.
Be with me and smile bright.
We’ll be the only stars on the floor tonight.
We both love shopping and contour lines,
and agree Burt Morris should resign.
I don’t care who you screw
If you just be straight, I’ll stay with you.
Won’t it be great to live forever this way.
Designer boyfriend: you draw the lines in some strange ass places.
Designed her boyfriend: set with the wrong typefaces.
We slept in late just like we bloomed.
We wrote up tired, and I questioned you:
You don’t rest still. You toss and turn.
In your heart of hearts, what gender burns?
Ain’t it funny, how we think lines are straight?
I peed that day after your shower.
Boy, it sure did smell like flowers.
On the steamed up mirror next to the clock,
I saw you had written, I heart cock.
I guess that answers who you screw,
If you just be straight I’d stay with you.
Won’t it be quaint to live forever this way.
I found your secret stash of gay porn and
I thought to myself, ”I’m so forlorn.
Rebecca, you should have listened when Grandaddy warned you,
It’s a land of fruit and nuts, this sate of California.“
Bumped into you at the day spa,
but I’ve found myself a better bra:
a better guy to hold my breasts
when I’m at work, he just rests.
Ain’t no longer finding my underwear gone.
Caught the bus down at the corner
got off by the bay where the boys are hornier.
I don’t care if you’re a disco star. I’m never going back to the Boy Bar.
Your color composition might be best in the Mission,
But I don’t like the way your sex is positioned.
Put your prisma colors back in their pencil case.
Track Name: Hot Girlfriend
Get off at the Dublin station
Walk past my elderly neighbors
Ring the bell in the back by the garden
I’ll get the door when I’m done on the john
Have a drink; enjoy the wood paneling
We live in a cigar bar
But you’ll have to leave...early
Cause it’s time for pizza in bed
Hey hot girlfriend,
think we should install a sprinkler system.
Meet down at the flea market
I’m looking for an antique tub
Have a taste of kettle corn
That shit goes straight to your hips
Think it might be time for you to split
Was it something I said about your dress fit
Think you might erase his number
Look at this rocker — redwood lumber
Try some more of these…peanuts
They’re organic and locally grown
Wear the dress that’s conveniently see-through
I didn’t know that you’d be here
Comment how the lawn looks nice
Thanks. It just rained.
Fake cough and politely excuse yourself
Did you see this shelf I made myself
Fake cough and politely leave the room
You need another drink, I assume
Would you, darling, please...leave me
Politeness ain’t paying my bills
Track Name: Stupid Baby
Baby bunny, baby honey.
Baby honey crying in your crib tonight.
Don’t you know that your dad’s on call
and your mom’s way too tall to bend down?
That’s what you get for having model, role model parents.
They give you the cheek bones,
but they keep the love to themselves,
all the hugs to themselves, they do.
I was born stupid like all the babies
But I didn’t let that end the conversation.
Back when coitus wasn’t even invented
and knocking was just for doors.
Your mom popped out of your daddy’s rib.
God said, ”Get back; go back. You’re too curvy, too wordy, and way too pervy“, but your mom said, ”I’m here. I’m queer. Come in this gourd. Give me something to work with.“
Your mom called me up and asked if I babysit.
I said not for little brats, like you and your sister.
”There ain’t no way I’m coming over for less than $7.50, Mama.
You better put out, put off that blank check.
The one with the dolphins swimming.“
I moved into higher education.
I was an Ivy League baby.
You found out the hard way that you had a brother in Oklahoma.
He saw you in the tire ad and thought,
”That girl’s got the same cheek bones. She might be the one that that rich family adopted. I’m going to sue her for the life she stole from me by being the firstborn.“
I was the baby in the back of your lecture hall.
I wiped my ass with your diploma.
Track Name: Cradle the Ladle
Your deep thought blew my router.
Why not a bowl of New England chowder?
Health care coverage missing dental.
Skip the candy. Hit a bowl of lentil.
Stop hoeing your team of lush blooms.
Un-condense some cream of mushroom.
Lost three goats, one fine filly
Wrangle those shitters with vegan chili.
Steamy pot, what you got for me? (3x)
Traipsing Paris enflames your bunions.
Cuddle up with some hot French onion.
You know your plans will just get botched, so
Why not some cold gazpacho?
Stop worrying about your soiled bedding.
Why not a bowl of Italian wedding.
Menu options looking gnarly,
Always safe with vegetable barley.
Ladle it up…
There’s delis in lotsa malls
I’d like to find some good matzoth balls.
Saltines ain’t got the means.
I need a punch packer like oyster crackers.
Ding-dong! it just hit noon.
Grab yourself a mug, a bowl and a spoon.
You ain’t nobody til your somebody’s dumpling, lumpling.