Bonaduces Sara Shut Up
Packed my suitcase and walked out the door. Stumbled back
in and packed some more. I'm not taking my lenses along,
because I'm short-sighted even with them on. And I guess
this constitutes running away, though it's months and
months delayed. I'm through with self-pity here. I'm
making the big changes to self-pity in new places.
Killing some time on the observatory deck. Maggie's St.
Christopher around my neck. Watching airplanes chug off
with grace while Syd keeps howling in her carrying case.
And I kneel down to tell her what's going on and why she
has to come along. She's the only thing that keeps me
sane, though debatable it might be that that word would
describe me. So hey, I'll shut up, because there's na-na-
na-na-nothing left to say. It's okay. You're nowhere near
me anyway. And hey, hey, Sara. Shut up Sara. Sara shut
up, I say it to myself again. Sara shut up, in the voice
of an absent friend. Sara shut up, I say it to remember
you and everything I didn't do. Sara shut up. Since
you've gone, I act out scenes from our old arguments to
blow off steam. And I play you and the cat plays me and I
never look too good, obviously. There's a message that's
on my machine. It's been there for over a year. I can't
take it off. I play it back to hear you. I pretend it's
brand new. Chorus.
