Up Where We Belong

No one believes me when I tell them

of the day I started to levitate; rising four

Feet, a gentle ascent, before soaring;

they asked how much I had to drink or

If I were high, and I retell a childhood

doll, raggedy, an arm ripped off and

An eye missing, or how it used to be

a perfect little girl, in its white crib until

Its owner forgot her, moved on to play

with pretty woman toys and boys and

Cash. Or of that friend with a speech

impediment, how she struggled to say

“Friend” or “peace” or “stop, please, no”.

and the gentle-man who adores little

Girls who play and takes care of them

in his casa of endless candy and games.

Nor how these things, accepted be,

caused me how to fly, well, I pealed my

Eyes and drank and snorted and

injected ’til the ol’ men in blue picked

Me up and put me in orange in front

of the Great High Magistrate with

Mismatched spectacles; ordered me to

the looney bin and the insane healing

The Insane. And Bobby the schizo

covered my eyes and kissed the back

Of my neck, cupped my perky breasts

and grazed his crotch by my backside,

Our feet rose and kicked, and soonest

we flew, hand-in-hand, over the moon.

Or so I think, but then again, hand me

the next bottle, I’m buying for us all.


This is the 100 Songs Project, a 100-day writing challenge based on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Songs. Every day, I write a short poem, prose piece, or play based on, reacting to, rejecting, accepting, or doing something related to one of the songs in the top 100 list.

Please consider liking Deelaytful on Facebook. We’re doing a promotion in preparation for the 200th post in a couple of weeks. If we get 500 likes before the 200th post, I will be uploading a video of myself singing a medley of Disney Princesses songs on YouTube.