I guess I know a lot of people
who think change is
one day you got a dog on a leash,
next day it’s a cat and
ain’t it a fun surprise.
I suppose some people figure it’s
funny and crazy and
lol ain’t that the way
when tattoos lose their color and
change says it doesn’t remember
what they mean.
Apparently to me there are those people
who insist it’s all an adventure,
don’t even TAKE your birth control,
God spins the wheel!
And don’t bother with all that poison
But I think there’s a lot of underground here.
It’s so little, the thing that’s wrong.
But it’s a pea, it’s a needle, it’s a lost button-
it’s a second skin scrubbed off
that leaves you pink and raw and motionless-
it’s a magnifying glass for every grain of sand
to scratch and infect your defenseless mind.
And they tell you it’s no big deal
that your favorite book has changed-
changed, CHANGE we welcome with booze
at midnight, CHANGE we spare for the bucket,
CHANGE we accept in exchange for our bills, bills, bills.
But you LOVED LOVED LOVED that book
I guess a lot of people got that second skin,
their dogs turn to cats and they shrug,
they make up new stories about their tattoos
and thank God that they’re really quite sane.
But you’ll be up nights asking God why you aren’t,
why it drives you so crazy
that nothing stays put,
that your old favorite book makes you blue as hell,
and even you can’t be certain why.