Accident
Lisa loebshe waltzes in her ballroom
swirling in her sequins, showing off her gown.
She steps on her own train,
she falls,
she cracks her jaw.
Aghast, her husband giggles.
He gasps, "She slipped on spilled champagne."
we crowd around the accident
we want to see the worst
we crowd around the accident
we want to see what hurts
They're leaning in the corner.
He's buried in a baggie.
They say he's mischevious sometimes
she's pretty
and her elbows are so pointy
they're dangerous
talking in the locker room
his nose bleeds so profusely.
But no one tell him, he's the star.
But they watch like at the movies that he's famous for.
we crowd around the accident
we want to see the worst
we crowd around the accident
we want to see what hurts
two stories
about to fall
boasting at the swing set
marching down the hall
she yelled cause he upset her desk
don't yell
he's picking sides
he's hitching rides to school
His father left in winter
he's no one's son
if I can poke her with a pencil
then I can pop her with a gun
we crowd around the accident
we want to see the worst
we crowd around the accident
we want to see what hurts
We think, "I'm glad it wasn't me,"
and turn up the TV
and squeeze our eyes shut
and leave a space to see.