"i got nothing to offer you
nothing to offer you
i'm just another boy who don't brush his teeth
it's not about hygiene, it's worse, it's political."

"can't you at least get a song," he said "a song
to sing. Can't you at least get a song to carry your losses, your particular losses, you unusual lady, I guess that's why- you gotta write your own."

he said "I've got a song," he said "I've got a song to sing. It's three-blind-mice, it's Jack-and-Jill, I sing it for my own, too. I sing for myself," that's what he was saying "cuz, he said, I got nothing to offer you."

but you're just like a beggar; you're just like a queen.
let me define you for the mile you vulnerable honey, then I'll leave you to the wolves, leave you to the wolves, mention me to them- they might cut you a discount or something."

"can't you at least get a song, to carry your losses--- I wanna end that sentence with your name but the shape won't roll off my tongue."

I said---"I know what you mean"
"no you don't"
"Yes I do"
"No you don't"
"okay- well I feel what you're saying--- I want to end that sentence with your name but my mouth won't give it out, it's candy."

You think I keep slappin' my strings
I just sit here slappin' my strings
that I'm bitter and I bank off
being bitter
that I plan to earn a fortune
at my own expense
that the ware on my tires is of the consequence
or maybe you think I'd be short on inspiration.

I'm no travel agent baby I'm not gonna book
you on no flight of Rhymes.
That do you no justice
that constrain your proportions
I'm not gonna crucify your beauty like that.

You don't even sit comfortably
in my compositional phrase
I couldn't bare to try you on my flesh again.

You think I keep slappin my strings
I just sit here slappin my strings
to ease humiliation with self-righteousness.

Can't you at least get a song
a bucket, a basket
How does it feel to be inside of my lyric
a basket a bucket
a short song for you I struck it goes
There ain't No Where From Here To Go
and then
Promptly ends,
So Goodbye.

"I look forward to your record to your record I do
Send it to my mother, send it under cover
cuz" he said, "I've got nothing to offer you."


from Cupcakes. and radishes, released January 1, 2004


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::leslie jill helpert º≠º New York, New York

<---a non-deductive anachronymph, meaning, mostly "of a chronologically inconsistent hemimetaboly". she makes candy out of earthsap, rudders and thunder ----->

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