Country Music Songwriting Contest, Chapter 2, The Munchies

 

What must it be like,

to look into anothers eyes and see yourself,

feature for feature, 

breath for breath

is it a garden or a curse?

How do you wrap your mind around

people who are only one,

all alone in this world?

How do you account for your lost twin

do you look into the mirror

and talk to him?

Native Peoples have many symbols

depicting four

When I started putting together collages of nature,

I finally understood them

their real meaning

It's about the four seasons

it's about the four winds

it's about the four directions

of course,

but it's also about seeing the earth

from all four directions

Upside down and backwards

like the tiny mirror in my camera

that looks back into my eyes

whenever I pear through its lens

And it's just me and you here,

these clouds, this earth, 

in the middle of nowhere 

you still show me your self

and you could be like the deer

and only choose certain times to appear

but you give me the gift of watching

even if its a show you're only putting on for me

You brought me this moth

as a token of love

but yesterday I found out you forgot

that love and now I'm eating

the mozzarella sticks I bought

for you, because you only eat kid food

and it drives me nuts

I'll keep speaking well of your name

remembering the moth gift

even when your presence and the

fact that you're going to throw a fit

later about me eating your cheese sticks

reminds me that everyone is incredibly

stupid for putting men in charge of things

Because they're worrying about

appetizers and pot holes

when they should be watching the road

You gave the twinkling eyes to someone else,

finally, after all this time

and at first I felt bad, 

but now I wish you'd fall for her completely

and I could find someone who'd stay in

the moth gift stage for a little while

then leave me with blessings

and we'd thank each other for all

we've learned and grown together

Some days I fantasize that I'd

give you a handmade card that says

"You make me wish I were a lesbian

but I still love you most of the time"

and that he'd laugh and laugh and

I could fall into his arms one more time

to say goodbye

*The original design came from a quilt by the quilters of Gee's Bend, Alabama

A community of women commune over stitching

Making blankets of scraps of threadbare cotton

taken from the clothes we used to wear

We stitch them back together to make

winter blankets for the whole town

Until an art curator shows up and shouts, "HIGH ART"

and then takes all of your incredible artwork

to New York City to show jaded people something

they can't possibly understand

They're too busy worrying about having the same dress

as another socialite and all I can think is,

Are you warm tonight, Gee's Bend?

Have your beautiful quilts been replaced by store bought?

I sure that's not the life you have to live now

and the price you pay for stardom

Stardom you never looked for, but here we are

and I feel two ways:

If I'd have never seen your quilts hanging in this museum

I'd have never had a real experience

inside of a museum, because I felt your power in every stitch

and seeing your art changed my life

Some people are a beautiful cup of life-giving water

You, together and your blankets

are the ocean.

We rode into the desert at dawn

to take pictures of the Death Valley Marathon

and it was the only car I'd ever had

that no lights were on on the dash,

but the desert fixed that

and now all the lights in the dash are on

but when the sun goes down

all of the stars you've never even

dreamed were there

appear in Death Valley

You feel at one with them, and if you lay down

on the roof of your car,

you'd swear you were flying through

outer space

and now I would never want a car

without all the lights in the dash on

because I might forget flying through the Cosmos

I painted that metal barrel, and nature gave it real flair

Patina and wrinkles and humped backs

are what we came here for,

so why do we spend so much time

with the doctor who knows nothing

to get well

when what we came here for

was the wildest ride we could conjure

to destroy ourselves from the inside out

in the most creative ways possible

we're our own show and we need no

reality television

because we watch ourselves from

the perspective of the main character

and we see us from our eyes first,

then from our chest

then we watch from anothers eyes

and finally from above

and we realize we've finally been seen

and it had been a fool's errand looking

for it anywhere outside of us

so we bravely took hold of the mast

of our own ship

and we screamed at the top of our lungs

at the storms coming in,

daring them to take us

to that better place

but not without a fight

Let how we die, be a reflection of how we lived,

and the bigger the life,

the bigger the death

Anything less is blasphemy,

that's my religion now

Swatting flies brings sport to my days

Telling the horse to get out and get some exercise

while I sit in the house at the computer

punching the keys on this imaginary piano

and maybe playing the piano would be more gratifying

I should probably try

I always wanted to not have a job for a while,

to be able to sit and read books in the woods

and to throw dance parties of one

but I never counted on the loneliness trying

to catch me most days

the flies being more annoying than they should be

that at the end of the day

you ask yourself what you've done that you're truly proud of doing

and the answer keeps coming back, "nothing really"

but it's so much better than waiting tables

But then again is it?

I could be giggling in the kitchen right now with Maria

about the tables we're going to crop dust

and what, specifically we need to eat to work up 

a really smelly one

people think we're focused on them and their happiness

and its so cute that they're so ignorant

because we're having important conversations

about music, good writing

art, books, and what the perfect wine

would be to go with Ramen noodles and fried bologna

Because waiters are artists

who occasionally walk up to strangers

and then roll their eyes when they order hot tea

because it's such a pain in the ass

and doesn't bring up the tab or the tip

and we're here for the kitchen conversations, man,

not to take your shit.

Have some whiskey and have a little pride.