Monday, October 01, 2007

To See the Sparks Fly

We first met one night behind Fallbrook Mall
You and Rick were walking around the parking lot
I was on my bike and I picked up a huge metal spring
And I threw it toward you as I rode by
It shot out golden sparks as it skidded against the pavement
So the three of us stayed together for a while
Throwing the spring around to see the sparks fly

Two years later I shot myself in the head
I had called you few days before
But you were ill and you couldn't put a band together
To play at my party; you were so disappointed

When you got out of the hospital
Daniel told you I had gone to Debbie’s house
And demanded that she take me back
When she said no, I showed her my father’s handgun
“Get out of here,” she said, and slammed the door on me
I walked across the street, sat down on the curb
And killed myself; we were 15

Two years after that, my picture was on the memorial page
Of our high school yearbook
You called it the death page and you laughed
“Why are you laughing?” the music teacher asked
You didn’t answer
Was it something about the sparks?

Sunday, August 19, 2007

The Pet Wiener

I pulled the van to the curb by the schoolyard gate. Mike and Sean were waiting for me, like they did every day. I opened the sliding door on the passenger side.

“Hey bus driver!” Mike said as they climbed into the van. “The president came to our classroom today!”

“Yeah, I know. I saw it on TV.”

“Did you see me? Did you see me?” Sean demanded as I drove off.

“Did you hear me reading?” Mike wanted to know. “Could you hear what I said when we were reading ‘The Pet Goat’?”

They snickered and giggled.

“Sit down and put your seat belts on.”

“Mike was saying dirty words,” Sean said.

“What words did he say?”

“Whenever we were supposed to say ‘goat,’ I said ‘wiener’ instead!”

Mike and Sean cracked up.

“I said: ‘The wiener ate her dad’s newspaper!’ I think the president heard me.”

“No, he didn’t,” Sean said. “You woulda got in trouble.”

“Yeah! I was probably gonna get in trouble! Miss Williams was looking at me! But then I saw the president looking toward the back of the room, and I turned around and I saw that bald guy was holding up a piece of paper. It said ‘Don’t say anything.’ Then they took the president away.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That must’ve been when they told him about the planes that crashed into the towers.”

“They showed us that on TV later!” Sean said. “For a while. Then when you could see the people falling out of the building Miss Williams told us not to look.”

“Did you see what happened when the plane hit the building?” Mike asked me. “There was that big ol’ honkin’ ball of fire that came out the other side. That was crazy!”

“Sure was,” I said.

“Like THAT!” Mike held up one of his arms as if it were a skyscraper, then used his other hand to show an airplane crashing into it. He did the sound effects, too: “CRSSSSSHHHH!!!! Ka-BOOOOOM!!!!”

“Then when you could see the people falling Miss Williams turned off the TV,” Sean said. “Then she looked at us for a while.

She didn’t say anything. She was just looking at us. It was kinda weird.”

“She’s probably just worried about you guys.”

“The terrorists aren’t going to come here,” Mike said. “We don’t have those big buildings.”

“Well, she’s worried anyway.”

“Why’s she worried?” Sean asked me.

“Maybe she’s afraid the president will start a war that’ll last so long that you’ll have to go fight in one of those raghead countries when you’re eighteen.”

“Wars don’t go on that long,” Mike said.

“Let’s hope not. Miss Williams would be sad.”

“You like Miss Williams, don’t you?” Sean said.

“He wants Miss Williams to suck his wiener!” Mike shouted.

“Don’t talk like that,” I said. “You’ll get in trouble.”

“What’ll happen?” Mike asked.

“They’ll put you on meds that’ll turn you into zombies.”

They screamed with laughter.

“Zombies! Zombies!” they chanted. “Zombies!”

“I wanna be a zombie!” Mike said. “I’m gonna eat your brain!”

“No, I’m gonna eat your brain!” Sean answered. They made zombie faces at each other, showing their teeth and raising their arms. I wanted to quiet them down.

“So I guess you guys will always remember the day the president came to your class and read ‘The Pet Goat,’ huh?”

“You mean ‘The Pet Weiner!’” Mike said.

And they laughed and laughed and laughed as I drove the bus down the road into that late summer afternoon.