It's a Party!
Meghan Lamb
Can you feel it? Can you feel it in the air? I can feel it breathing. Can you breathe it? Can you breathe? I thought so. Going in and out and up and out and in.
We are not like the rest of them. You are not like the rest of them. We’re on a wavelength, you and I. A what? A WAVELENGTH.
YES, A WAVELENGTH. Going in and out and up and out and in. It looks like this. It looks like dolphins mating. It looks like a star birth. It looks like a supernova, like a burst, a silver squirrel’s tail, a stream of shining fur, a strike of gold, a string of pearls, a siren’s gulp, a silent, silent death.
You like that? Yeah, I thought so. Yeah, get into it. Woohoo. These are the party days, my friend! THESE ARE THE PARTY DAYS!
Why are we dancing? I cannot remember when we started. Oh, whatever. Just keep dancing. Just keep dancing til you die! Just keep dancing just keep dancing just keep dancing just keep on keeping on keep on keeping on and keep the candle burning keep burning burn it baby burn it while you can, burn what you can. Just dance gonna be ok. Just dance gonna be ok. Just dance gonna be ok. Just dance just dance just dance just dance dance dance dance gonna be ok ok ok ok ok ok ok ok.
Oh no oh no oh fuck oh shit oh fuck oh shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit fuck shit don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t leave me booty mama sugar titties baby girl don’t leave me booty mama sugar titties baby girl don’t leave me baby mama baby baby baby baby baby oo, like baby baby baby oo, like BABY BABY BABY OO I THOUGHT YOU’D ALWAYS BE MINE.
This party is your cradle and your baby’s just been born. I’m gonna rock you like a baby like your baby’s just been born. Your baby’s crying and this party is your baby, just been born. Your baby’s crying and this party never dies. You know this party is your cradle and your cradle is your grave. This party is your cradle and your cradle is your grave. This party is you cradling, your cradling, you’re cradling your cradle, crying how now, who now, what now, WHO AM I?
Whose party is this? I don’t know. I thought that it was yours. You’ve got a right to party, party on forever. Party all night. Party is our right. Our night to party is our right. We have a right to party and we have a right to live.
You have every reason to live. You are living your life, and your life is a shimmering bug, it’s a brightly winged beetle, your blood is a star, it’s a star! Your blood is glowing, so stay gold, Pony Boy, stay gold. Your bug’s a beetle and your beetle blood is bleeding and your love is gold your wings are dry you’re dying dying dying dying dying dying dying you are dying…
Can you feel it? Can you feel it in the air? I can feel it breathing. Can you breathe it? Can you breathe? I thought so. Going in and out and up and out and in.
Can you feel it? Can you feel my heart beating? Do you understand? Do you feel the same? Am I only dreaming? Is this burning an eternal flame?
Say my name. Say my name. Say my name. Say my name. Say my name. Say my name.
Say my name, bitch. Say my name! Say my name, bitch. SAY MY NAME! You said you’d say it. Say my name, bitch! SAY MY NAME!
Are you the same? Are we the same? Are you the same? Are we no longer dancing? Are we dancing into one another? Are we dancing in and out and up and out and in? Are we dancing through each other? Are we dancing far away? I want to dance until I don’t know where we’ve been. I want to dance until we don’t know where we’re going. I will dance until my body looks like this.
Your body looks like this. Your body moving looks like this. This is your ass. This is your blood. This is your brain. This is your brain on drugs. This is your blood on fire. This is me, remembering the precious moments that we had together. This is me when I was seven on the precipice of learning what a penis was and what was a vagina. This is me when you were not there. This is me when you were there. This is me with my shirt undone, my hair not washed, my phone not ringing.
This is wringing, wringing hands, my washing hands, me clean, unclean, me cleaning up, me picking up the pieces, you not there.
This is me crying. Can you see me? Can you feel it? Do you care? This is me crying over you. Crying over you. Yes now you’re gone and from this moment on I’ll be crying crying crying crying crying CRYING OVER YOU.
MEGHAN LAMB lives in Chicago where she edits the magazine Red Lightbulbs and is a feather.
:: ABOUT :: ISSUES :: SUBMISSIONS :: NEWS ::
| Colin Blair Grabarek :: | Speak One Way |
| Karen Greenbaum-Maya :: | Raksasa: The Deer-Pig |
| Amanda Ackerman :: | Human Time: Poem Eight, Self-Pity |
| Kyle Hemmings :: | Miss tHing, I Think I Love You |
| Tammy Ho Lai-Ming :: |
How Can You Understand? |
| Suzanne Marie Hopcroft :: |
If You Can(’t) Take the Heat, Get Out of the Sit-In |
| Rocket Man | |
| Peter Schwartz :: | Uncle Shorty |
| Davey Carren :: | Picture of a Postcard |
| Misty Rainwater-Lites :: |
Primordial Pudding |
| F.J. Bergmann :: | Instant Affirmative |
| Matthew Burnside :: | YUL BRYNNER DOESN’T GIVE A MOTHERFUCK |
| NO ORGASM WILL EVER MAKE ME FEEL THE WAY MORGAN FREEMAN'S VOICE SOUNDS | |
| TRAPPED IN GARY BUSEY'S HOUSE, ONE TEXT LEFT | |
| Matt Robinson :: | The Oppressionist |
| Nick Narbutas :: | Enchanted, I’m Sure |
| Eleanore Leonne Bennet :: |
Two photographs |
| Alexis Pope :: | Tired, Hungry, Dirty |
| Meghan Lamb :: | It’s A Party! |
Homage to the Strange Spirits
| Kathy Acker :: | The Killers |