In the living room;
that’s where it started, they said.
It came on the news,
story at ten.
Crazy is just like anything else,
hands on the wheel, it turns its head—
a clean house, a home-cooked meal,
is
it too much to ask every now and then
to
come home after a hard day’s work
to
a pretty thing in a pretty dress,
who
makes me a drink and massages my neck.
It’s
asking too much, I suppose,
to
have a wife like Martin has,
watches
her weight, always dressed to the nines.
Is
it asking too much, am I being a beast,
you
walk around here with that hangdog look,
when
you’re up, that is,
you’d
feel a lot better if you got out of bed.
What
is it now, cat got your tongue,
why
do you play these games with me.
Is
that what you’re wearing, what have I told you,
hello
hello, is anyone there,
you
knew how I was,
I think
you enjoy it,
you
know what’s coming,
you
do it on purpose.
Tell
me please if I’m asking too much,
aren’t
you the one who says we should talk,
why
look, we’re home, let’s talk, you and me.
In
the living room;
that’s
where it started, they’ll say;
who knows where anything really begins.
It
will be on the news,
story
at ten.
Crazy is just like anything else,
it eats and it learns from the look in your eye;
it
wants what it wants
and
doesn’t know why.