Hi, everybody.
Hello.
Hi.
Thank you all for having me.
Thank you, Hannah for organizing.
And Tyler, and Julie, and Sarah--
I don't know where you are.
You all have been amazing and awesome, and I feel loved.
What Hannah didn't tell you is that I
did my undergrad at Arizona State,
but that was 6,000 years ago.
But it is nice to be back in Arizona.
So why am I so nervous?
I'm really nervous to read to, here.
I don't know why.
But you know, nervous is impetus for beauty, maybe.
[LAUGHTER]
"To the Man on the Bus."
"I don't like your mouth.
I don't like the crusty edge, or how it looks like it smells.
I don't like that it won't stay still.
There's something God damned about that mouth.
You don't even deserve it.
You who plays with Popsicle sticks,
who rides the bus with a bloody crack in your lip.
You even have a cell phone ring that's ridiculous.
Every time I think it's dry, you start it all over again.
And I hate those caps you wear.
I don't like the way you sit.
Your fanny pack, your dirty brown bag.
I don't like the mustard stain you leave
whenever you switch seats.
I'm not saying your mouth isn't full of things I could like.
It is full of things I do like.
Like lamp posts, and cracked teeth, and the word "Fucker."
Once, some little girl put a fatty nipple on that lip.
Is that what made it crack?
You were young then.
I hate you anyway.
I could just say you've opened your mouth for the last time,
but I've already opened my mouth.
I've already lied about who I am."