Nothing in my life's the way I want it.
Sometimes I can wonder why,
But deep down, I know
That I built my foundation on pleasing you,
And there's no doing that.
And so today the shifting sand appears,
Great drifts of it in every room of my house.
But maybe if I blow the fuckin' house down
And run away with the wolf,
I'll be happy for a minute...
Just one fuckin' minute.

-jenn

I ain't afraid to say 'hallelujah.'
I ain't afraid to say 'fuck you.'
Somewhere in the middle
Is my theology.
It swirls in the vortex of my thoughts of you.

But I want to know what the gods believed.
I want to know what they believed in.
I don't want to be one or two steps removed.
And if that's too much to ask,
Then let me be like the squirrel
Who worships his tree
And his daily nut.

Deepest irreverence brings reverent epiphany.
Suddenly 'holy' really means something.
Your eyes stop at mine.
They're blazing!
They burn me.
Then you whisper,
"You're hot."
And now I believe.

-jenn

I want the crazy that's not contagious.
But it's really hard to get.
Some crazy comes after you,
As if its only cure for lonesome
Is to infect you,
Recombine its DNA inside and
Make you like it,
So that it will cause a twin,
Have someone to talk to,
An equal to wrestle with when boredom sets in.

But I've seen a beautiful nut job
Talking to herself,
Singing a new song of joy each morning.
She hears the percussive rhythms of the birds and the motorcars,
Is mindful of it and remembers it all day.
She shakes her ass to it,
Even in the grocery store.
Yes even, and especially, the hoity toity grocery store,
Where no one wants to catch her particular brand of crazy,
Except me.

I wonder if maybe it is contagious after all.

-jenn

There was Sherry and Linda and Betsy and Billy,
But something was wrong with Betsy.
She quit talking about age 5,
And they labeled her retarded.

And Sherry and Linda and Betsy and Billy
All went to the little school in town,
But something was wrong with Betsy.
She had to go to special classes
That they called title one.

Sherry and Linda and Billy grew up.
They went to the prom and got married
To people who treated them like worn-out shoes,
But something was wrong with Betsy.

She didn't take that shit from anybody.
She stare 'em back right in the eye.
She'd slap them if they got close enough
Or didn't stop their teasing.

But then, something was wrong with Betsy.
Or, was there?

-jenn

Some days ago, in sometime past,
That rash road rage act of yours would've offended me.
I might've felt disregarded,
But not today.
Because today I know
That I'm secretly Stevie Wonder's Cherie Amour.
I'm under Frank Sinatra's skin.
I'm Michael Jackson's PYT again,
And Ray Parker's other woman.
I've heard all my lucky songs today,
And I've heard the deep voice of The Singer say,
"This is MY daughter, with whom I am well pleased."

-jenn

I know it's going to be OK.
But today all I can see
Is that stage of the cake
Where the eggs are blooped in on one side like three big lazy eyeballs,
And the teaspoon of vanilla isn't wanting to mix with the oil,
Or the milk.
The salt and sugar ain't that happy together.
The baking soda pouts, still clumped up in the shape of the spoon that dumped it,
And looks like a plain white boil on the butt of humanity.

But I'm just going to go ahead and keep on mixing it,
And one of these days, I'm going to have my cake,
And I'm damn well going to eat it, too.

-jenn

It's my luck
To be so sweet in bloom
The mandrake blossom
The finch the loon
Come to drink my nectar
Exotic and rare
It's my luck
To be stuck
Here in the rain
Neath this mango fan with you
The fruit heavy and ripe
And wants to be picked on this very day

But the rain will stop
And people will see
Me with all this mango juice on my mouth
And hands
Face and toes
But that's how it goes
It's my luck