By Misti Velvet Rainwater
Date: 5 March 2000

Programmed But in a Pretty Way

With centuries of sound effects and drama
            and comedy and horror
(dinosaurs roaring)
(Lou Gehrig saying farewell to baseball)
(Andy Kaufman throwing coffee at Lawler on Letterman)
(19 yr. old soldiers getting blown apart by the Viet Cong)
           buzzing around like angry wasps
                 inside our
                 memory cells
With faith & illusion & hope tattooed across
       our persistent pumping hearts
and forgotten phone numbers scrawled all over
                  our neuroses
                 we joined forces
               and danced the dance
              that all men and women
                      dance
              when they come together
                      dictated
                   by the libido
                       lured
                   by the siren song
             passed down like a fragile
                    musty heirloom

we let light
into the room
I opened the blinds
admired the dancing motes
that seemed to have no motives
     Wow
I thought
They Are Celebrating Us

and it was the same as it always was
                                 is
                                 will be

forget fires in a cave
to keep the monsters away
forget black lights
and velvet psychedelic posters
forget a programmed veldt
on the wall
bringing the smell of death
into the boudoir

it was always a dance
      of mutual
        desire
it is a dance
      of mutual
        desire
it will always be a dance
      of mutual
        desire

thanks and Academy Award speeches
and kudos and applause and burnt
sacrifices to the Big Guy Upstairs
for my talent for stating the obvious
and my faulty biogenetic code
and my old habits that die hard
and fertilize weeping willows
I am glittering, true
in my darling borrowed dress
and Tiffany jewels
but when the spotlight dims
it will be a generic night
like all the other nights
of heartaches past
and the iron butterflies in my gut
tell me that there are other
generic nights lurking over the river
and through the woods

thank God that Coca-Cola still comes in glass bottles
thank God for Cheese Crisps
thank God they finally put a Native American
on a coin
a gold one that is worth a dollar
Yowza
they saved the best
for last

this one is for you, baby
'cause you hate me and don't
want me to clutter up your inbox
with any more e-mail messages spiked with acerbic humor
and this one is for the man who isn't in Russia
after all
but never waves when he sees me
and never calls
and this one is for Josh
who was deployed to Bosnia
in '98
he was six years younger than me
but he knew
he knew

good-bye from your goodest girl
your gasoline attendant in the desert
were you all a mirage?
I write poems and journal entries
to make you real

this is who and where i am now
in case you are wondering
and this is how i
would like to be remembered:

i saw my ears kissing
     your lies
eating stale American pies
on the porch
watchin' it go
a pilgrimmage to the picture show




















































































the picture show
  
  
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