1. |
Laundry Palace
03:24
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I wish you were here. I hate when I do that.
I mean what’s a guy gotta do to tell his friends that he’s content –
Without lying like a laundromat bench on Thursday nights?
I can see the other side.
Woman, woman, woman like a lighthouse,
Clutching gently just behind the door
Of the Laundry Palace
Covered by the sign light
And the hushing voices
Talking about money.
I wish you were here, folding thrifted clothes.
I can’t master the doubt that sits behind my eyes
While I’m laying on the laundromat bench on Thursday nights,
Getting nowhere still just like the old days.
Getting in your pants– no wait I’m a creep– no wait those are mine.
Of course I’m sorry.
That was a different time.
Woman, woman, woman like a lighthouse,
Clutching gently just behind the door
Of the Laundry Palace
Covered by the sign light
And the hushing voices
Talking about money.
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2. |
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Jeremiah knows what I need; this time it’s a scentless stain remover for my avocado Sunday for my shirt.
Faithless on the weekend I am saved by these white machines.
I’m doing my best to make it right.
I’ve been known to hide some things;
You know I’d be a purer man if they just weren’t so easy to clean.
Jeremiah knows what I know; this time it’s a floating quoted passage from our high school English teacher who he loved.
“Eternity’s a rest my son, so you don’t have to walk but you better not run.”
I’m doing my best to live it out.
I’ve been known to hide some things;
You know I’d be a purer man if they just weren’t so easy to…
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3. |
Clean Me
02:54
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Clean Me
Clean me. Clean me Cassidy. Clean me. Clean me, Cassidy sisters.
When I was a younger man, I didn’t know your mother bore a double dose of heaven
In her belly.
So, raise a glass to what’s close.
There’s no such thing.
Clean me. Clean me Cassidy. Clean me. Clean me, Cassidy sisters.
From atheist to Irish Catholic, I want to take the Eucharist twice.
But you’re the body
And the wine in my nose
When we get close.
Clean me. Clean me Cassidy. Clean me. Clean me, Cassidy sisters.
Cassidy sisters (repeated).
Clean me. Clean me Cassidy. Clean me. Clean me, Cassidy sisters.
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4. |
Francine Speaks
01:34
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I am sorry. I’m a clothesline, baby. I’m a diaphanous blouse, a pointless adversary,
Laughing louder than your moral superstition, repressed automatic need for masturbation.
Met you in the summer; my religious sister told me to be feckless after you had kissed her.
Clutching indigence, I took a tab of acid with my brother’s friends.
So, Sunday morning was a fake baptism in the rain, got naked and proceeded through the plaza.
Oggle-goggle went the coffee drinkers, and the poor shop owners, and the world was underwater.
Jeremiah, I imagined you, Jeremiah, clutching gently at my liberated shell, and
When you didn’t come, I strode up to your door, a fugitive of the computer world. And,
I wanted to explore you baby.
But now that time is gone.
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5. |
Coffee Eyes
03:57
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Gossamer Petals, really?
I didn’t know you were prone to the tabloids, baby.
I didn’t know you at all; you were bound for the
eleven o’clock.
Romantic sympathizers
would imagine us both in a silent movie.
Where I flag down the train with what seems like
too many words.
But then the screen caves in,
And you cave in.
And I’m alone again,
On my own.
And it’s fine, ‘cause nothing in those eyes
could ever make me whole again.
You wore a denim jacket,
And a shirt that you got at a high school track meet,
Or something like that; I was bound to
notice your stride.
We sat on metal benches,
And I happily gazed at the coffee cup that
you held in your hand; it was poured from
both of your eyes.
‘Cause it was darker than a night without the laundromat light…
I’m alone again,
On my own.
And it’s fine, ‘cause not even those coffee eyes
could ever make me whole again.
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6. |
Jeremiah Speaks
03:20
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Seeing you again was like touching a tumor, benign after thousands of years.
I feel tired and strange singing this.
And, when you died, I clenched my jaw, and turned my back for the thousandth time.
My bed was empty, my head was not. What do you do when your love grows cold for good?
Good-bye, Francine. I guess I’ll never think about your cigarette addiction in the compass of reality now. I ask if there’s a place to get a decent cup of coffee and the nurse is gravely pointing it out.
Seeing you again, with your torso of satin sunk down deep to the rib;
It takes all of my strength to recall.
Before you died, you closed your eyes, and touched my arm, and bore it all.
You said, my frame is empty, my head is not. What do you do when the rest is coming close?
I didn’t say nothing. I mean, what do you say to that amidst these covered attractions?
She left me the palace. The night is a void from there. The night is a void from this plastic chair.
Good-bye, Francine. I guess I’ll never think about your cigarette addiction in the compass of reality now. I ask if there’s a place to get a decent cup of coffee and the nurse is gravely pointing it out.
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7. |
After All, There's a Way
03:58
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I won’t love you; I promise to promise
much more than one word can hold,
my darling, in focus.
The light from the laundromat
turns your lips into lizards, cracked open
from dryness, cured close by thousands of kisses, no.
I won’t love you. I promise, such adjectives
as poignant and pointless will battle
with torches.
The light from the laundromat
makes you a martyr for a second. I joke that
you’ll rise in death. You pause and frown to think about it.
Long economics in the book you read;
I’ll bounce back tomorrow, maybe.
All I need to hear you say
is “after all, there’s a way.”
My one message, my love, invoking
the future, the stories, that we’ll tell
acquaintances.
The light from the laundromat
reminds me that we’re nothing. We’re walking,
she shakes her head and tells me I’m jaded.
I chuckle. She makes a face. I tell her I love her.
We go home. We make some food and look out
the window.
The light from the laundromat
still cancels the darkness. I lean toward
her neck again to shut out the artifice in our lives
when I can’t sleep.
Long economics in the book you read;
I’ll bounce back tomorrow, maybe.
All I need to hear you say
is “after all, there’s a way.”
A way.
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