I used to be able to do this: to wake up in the morning and have the power
To affirm, this is what is going to happen today
And who knows what will happen tonight
Because with ghastly pallor I used to connect the bones
Of collage-glued laughter, the after-life of the after-party or happy
To spend the night on the couch with a steak-flavored Sagittarius
Whose hair was a book I couldn't read, whose spine I would crack eventually
But this was before doctors and long-term fixes
Before health and stability killed the genies that used to
Trip over themselves to grant my death wishes
Now I've got a cassette tape on the table telling me I've got it all
Wrong, and a mirror I just cleaned telling me I am one-dimensional
Trapped inside of the mirror is a girl in a bow and a smock
Telling me seeing is believing
And I believe in God, but I've always been an atheist
When it comes to my own fucking body
My skin is still the softest pillow the United States has ever rested on
But my black coffee heart is the one reading the sheet music
To the pianist who lives in the pair of skinny arms that the masses want to steal
When I say I'm homesick I only mean I haven't been to the spa
Or to the hospital all year, I've been trying
To dance myself clean to the beat of my own ear drum
But I miss when mornings were quiet, and certain
And there are days when I am sure I would be happy
To be a hermit with a mailbox and a coffee pot
Still when someone says he or she eats their salad last
I say oh, how very French of you
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