Come back to me.
My friend Martha believes when she's not there
she doesn't exist for people.
And just because I'm not talking about you,
Mr. Tree, just because I can't hear you crash on the forest
floor, does that mean--
The same is true of all wars I never fought in--
blood, gunpowder, bodies smoldering on rice paddies.
That dizzy adrenaline rush in a fighter plane
I can almost imagine it was me.
Silly girl, remember the body count, the TV news,
the TV news, ghoulishly there, and not
there, battlefields and soldiers in the fake mahogany RCA frame?
Other props included stereo, stack of LPs,
my dad's dish of ice cream, or my kids leaping up
to change the channel back to the Flintstones.
Wilma always looks so worried.
[LAUGHS]
Better Wilma than Martha or me.
I was looking anywhere for inspiration, dear.
The underside of a leaf struck me as miraculous,
possibly not seen by any other human eye, but so what.