I am a good girl.
I see my dentist twice a year and always look both ways before crossing the street,
and always use a napkin
and say please and thank you
and everyone says how good,
you are so good.
A very good girl they pat me on the head with words and nodding chins…
Sometimes I smile prettily and whirl away on my bicycle
or pop bubbles in the air.
Sometimes I get bored of being good.
Sometimes I stand motionless in the backyard with the nice toys
and watch the moon all golden
until it starts to drip and I know that it is poison
it is drugs
and drugs are bad, bad, very bad for you
but I want to lick the droplets hanging from the branches
in the trees all shadowbound
like prisoners in wooden cages a long time ago.
There are eyes in the branches at night and they look at me
until I look back at them even scarier
and they close,
and I think they leave because I beat them at their own game…
And when I sing outside,
“three six nine the goose drank wine…”
“step on a crack and break your mothers back. Break her, break them all….”
I know they listen.
So I sing them other songs
in other languages
and words from
I am a good girl and when someone tells me a secret I keep it to myself
and sometimes if they are good too
I tell them mine
or show them….
and then the eyes in the trees watch carefully
until the showing is over
and the secret is safe once again,
for a while…
I am a good girl and the voices that tell me things
can’t stop talking to me
they even brave the sunlight sometimes
and I ask them for stories
about the real bogeyman
and they say he isn’t a man at all
(but you mustn’t tell)
that he is really, in the deepest deep down,
a very good girl.