you’re like this when you are with me

1997 chapbook by Janet Kuypers

warren stories i heard this story about this fat woman who sat naked on a pork chop bone once and didn’t notice when it lodged itself among her folds of fat. years later, when she felt a sharp pain, and the doctors couldn’t figure out what it was, opened her up and found the pork chop, and realized that her skin just eventually grew over it.

Watching My Father Die my father had cancer the doctors told us he’d be dead in six months, but after six years of pampering and caring for him we wondered how long this was going to last. Not that we wanted him to leave us, of course, but did the doctor know what he was talking about? but then his condition started getting worse, in the last two weeks especially, and I just saw him in so much pain I didn’t know what to do. After seeing him in so much pain, after these two weeks, one night I even prayed for his death to come. Just to save him. Just to make his pain go away. And the next day, he was dead. After all that time, the pain was over. Just like that.

watching you (2/18/94) a strand of your hair falling into your eyes you brush it behand your ear you move your head lean over it falls again it curls in just the right way it makes a perfect tunnel it directs me me eyes are drawn to your beautiful blue eye

watching you eat a donut (with Lance) How do I approach this? I remember the lines: “the optomist and the pessimist, the difference is quite droll: the optomist sees the donut and the pessimist sees the hole” And I look over, see the consumption of the wholeness, the nothingness. I prefer nothing because there’s a whole lot of nothing breathing nothing nothing between the spaces one naught two naught three. But there’s always so much to read between the spaces, between the lines. You see, it’s all a matter of what you choose to look for. What you choose to look for. What you choose to find. I look at the world and see nothing I stare into nothing and see the world I look at nothing and see memory and all the faces caressed with eyes. I run my fingers along the table, caressing the granules flaking from the pastry between two fingers. Like grains of sand, ting beads. Caressed. Consumed. This is nothing. This is everything.

Water on the Street George Eastman was dumping water from his outdoor hot tub one day and the water was running down the center of the street. Now, from a distance, it looked like George Eastman may have been watering his lawn; but people were only allowed to water their lawns on certain days of the week. So when I saw the water and then I saw George Eastman, I said, “Hey, you know -” pointing to the water and George Eastman interrupted and said, “I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not watering my lawn. I’m dumping out the water from my hot tub, and I’m dumping it into the street because I don’t want the chemicals to hurt my lawn.” Well, I didn’t even mention the sewer grate behind his house he could have dumped the water into. I just said, “Well, if it will hurt your grass, what will it do to the asphalt on my street?” And George Eastman started hemming and hawing as I drove away.

ways to spend your money I spent a week in Los Angeles recently visited Beverly Hills, Hollywood, Brentwood I saw the Hollywood sign and Marilyn Monroe’s handprint in concrete took my picture with Tom Jones’ star but the one thing I noticed was that among the shops that lined the streets of every neighborhood there were quite a few pet spas “pet spas,” i thought, “pet spas”

wedding lost And she sees herself in the passenger seat at night, her fiance beside her, and the lights seem all too bright, and the rain seems all too loud, like the thunder of soldiers running across a field to war, swept with the drunken feeling of patriotism, charging toward their unknown enemy. And so it happened that night, the lights got brighter, the car started to spin, and then she started to dream. And she sees herself at the end of the church, the bridesmaids have just walked down the aisle, the music changes for her. She feels swept with the euphoria of love, and she begins to walk, but she falls, the bouquet falling from her hand. And in slow motion, white roses and lilies scatter along the aisle. And she looks up, and the groom is gone, and the ground is the ashes of the house they bought together after they were married. She sits up, and she’s at the desk at the bank, trying to get the loan for the house. His job is secure, we’re young, nothing could go wrong. Good thing he wore the blue tie to the bank, and not the red one. And she sees herself waking up from sleep, the oxygen pipe still under her nose, her husband there, tie in hand, asking if she’d like to hold their baby. But she could have sworn she heard the baby stop crying. And she panics. And then she wakes up, her head is bobbing, but now she’s back, back at the hospital, looking at the tubes running out of her fiance’s arm.

What do we say What do we tell our youth when we let them out on probation for violent crimes because there’s no room in our jails What does it say of us when a painting of a clown by John Wayne Gasey sells for millions What does it say of our self-esteem when hundreds of women write letters to Charles Manson asking for his hand in marriage What does it say of our media when it glorifies these dark heroes Dear Hero I want to know how your mind works I want to know why you did it I want to know how you feel about politics and love and marriage I hope you’re not suffering too much I love you What rights do we really take away from those who take our rights from us? I hope you’re not suffering too much Richard Speck, convicted of killing eight nurses, was videotaped in his prison cell by cell mates with his male lover, counting hundred dollar bills, snorting mounds of cocaine, showing off his hormonally- induced shapely breasts When a menber of society commits a crime they relinquish the rights they have taken from others in theory One man in prison filed a lawsuit against the state for serving peas to him too many days in a row One man in prison filed a lawsuit against Ann Landers because she published his letter where he wrote he killed his wife One man in prison filed lawsuit after lawsuit against the state solely because he felt a great joy in uselessly spending the taxpayers’ money What do we say to all of this What do we say

what you could make me do I I remember when you and Brad and Joe and I decided to kill a bottle of champagne, Andre pink, two-for-five, on a building top in the December cold. I remember standing at the top of this building with this bottle of cheap champagne in my hand and not caring that it was cold, that I was breaking the law. I was young, and free. And I had friends. We stood in the shape of a triangle and made the person in the center drink. I said they had to spin while they drank, then belch when they were done. Brad and Joe were more than willing; the belching was a contest for them. And I became one of the boys for a night, to become closer to you. You didn’t want to belch, or spin, or really even drink. I didn’t make you. But you did. And I’d like to think that in your heart you did it because you wanted to follow me. I’ve always wanted to tell you that I wanted to follow you, too. II I got your watch engraved the day of my Christmas party. I didn’t want to bother with wrapping the thing, besides, I didn’t even have a box for it, so I just wore it. You never knew it was there. When you couldn’t take the suspense any longer, I told you that I had it on me. It must have been quite a sight to see you walking in circles around me, trying to figure out what I was hiding from you. But I wasn’t even hiding it. I was wearing it on my wrist, with my other watch, as plain as day. III So I made a full picnic and brought it to an empty theater. And I put on my best black dress, you know, the one that is off the shoulders, the one I wear to make heads turn. I set out the food, played slow music and put the champagne glasses you bought me on the center of the stage floor. When I sat down I was afraid splinters from the hard-wood floor would run my stockings. But I wanted you to see what you could make me do. I didn’t want you to think I was some nobody. And I wanted to see the look on your face when you opened the theater doors. That night you said that everything was perfect. But it was perfect only when you sat down to join me.

when you’re gone i know you’ll be back to take more from me i always wonder how much more i have to give how much more i possess sometimes i wonder if i am spent if i can take any more but i always do and you’re always there when you’re gone there will be someone else

where I belong well, I have found that I must be the hound enslaved cause my hands and my feet they are bound to the ground and I struggle to sing just one sound so thank you for singing this song for showing me wrong is where I belong I’m in a haze yet I’m filled with this rage encaged by the intricate maze on this stage and I’m dazed as I page through my wage on the blaze and thank you for singing this song for showing me wrong is where I belong I smell the mace so I cover my face in case in my haste I can trace the harsh taste is my pace in this race is it all just a waste yes, thank you for singing this song for showing me wrong is where I belong

where to go It was almost sunset, and there was no one on the beach. She went there just to see the sunset, just to try to calm herself down. She had to get away, she thought. She couldn’t take it anymore. His affair. Her job. The kid’s problems. Her weight. The vacuuming and dusting. So she went to the beach. The waves gently lapped along the sandy shore, turning golden in color as the sun’s rays darkened into a deeper and deeper red, into purple, into blue. A light breeze moved her hair like fingers running to the back of her head. An occasional sea gull flew along the shore. There was no one in sight. She sat there, momentarily in peace. The breeze started to feel stronger and stronger, and she had to close her eyes from the burn of the wind and the sand. The sand ripped into her arms like tiny needles, piercing her skin. The waves grew higher and higher until they sounded like they were about to land on top of her. She finally opened her eyes. Her burning eyes saw that the waves were still only lapping on the shore. The sand had not moved. There was no breeze. She stood up. She couldn’t take it anymore. She took off her shoes and sprinted away

white knuckled The hot air was sticking to her skin almost pulling tugging at her very flesh as she walked outside down the stairs from the train station. Just then a breeze hot and sticky hit her in just the wrong way, brushed against her lower neck, and she felt his breath again, not his breath when he raped her, but his stench hot rank when he was just close to her. Her breath quickened, like the catch of her breath when she has just stopped crying. All the emotion is still there not going away. She walks to the bottom of the stairs, railing white-knuckled by her small tender hands, the hands of a child, and that ninety degree breeze suddenly gives her a chill. They say when you get a chill it means a goose walked over your grave. She knows better. She knows that it is him walking, and that he trapped that child in that grave

who you tell your dreams to we were driving down the freeway you and me in the pick-up truck and your girlfriend in between> where you could move the gear shift and it would mean so much to you and you saw something that you thought was beautiful, and you said, “look at the lines, look at how it was made” and you were inspired by the beauty of an everyday object no one else noticed and your girlfriend, riding in the middle said “that’s him, people think he’s crazy” and i thought, “no, it just depends on who you tell your dreams to” but i couldn’t say it in the truck i wouldn’t say it

why i’ll never get married at work we’ve been looking for a new employee we’ve sifted through resumes we’ve interviewed a few and some were good some were very good and we took some time to decide and then we called our #1 choice and they said they wanted more money than we offered se we said our goodbyes and we called our second choice and they said they couldn’t work at such a small place so someone at work said we should interview some more and that’s when i knew at the rate we were going we’d never find anyone and no one would want us

with you (2/18/94) It’s Friday again the birds are singing this morning the sun is out it’s warmer than usual maybe it’s always like this maybe it’s today it always seems darker when you’re further away

without you (1/6/94) i look out at the evening sky the trees are laced with snow on their delicate branches the darkened skythe whitened streets the trees aren’t as beautiful anymore

women’s very existence rape is neither a sex crime or a crime of passion rape is not an isolated brutal crime against women rape is often premeditated rape is a crime of violence rather than sex it is a crime of violence against women it is an attack by men on women’s bodies on women’s feelings on women’s very existence Bob Lamm, 1976 i still have to take showers a lot. i mean, every once in a while, no matter how clean i am to the rest of the world, i have to go take a shower. i lock all the doors, i close the shades on the windows, i put a towel over the bathroom mirror. turn the water on, piping hot, so steam is billowing out of the bath tub. i finally undress, open the curtain, put my foot in, burn my foot with the water. i wish i could hold my foot there, just a little longer. i turn down the water. wait for it to cool down, then step in. then i just put my head under the shower head. hold it there for a while. catch my breath. get the soap. start scrubbing. i use the soap first, then i get the bath brush. scrub off a layer of skin. i know this makes no sense. my skin is red, from the heat, from the scrubbing. ,but i know i’m still not getting it off, it’s down there, the molecules are embedded deep inside of me, and i’ll have to rip my skin off, pull out my organs before it goes away. but for now all i can do is take showers.

you and me and your girlfriend we went out for drinks together you and me and your girlfriend to a restaurant in Malibu with a balcony that hung over the water had a perfectly lovely time you and me and your girlfriend talking about life, catching up and you suggested that we go out on the balcony and I thought that would be charming for you and me and your girlfriend but we hadn’t paid our bill yet so your girlfriend told us to go on without her we stood outside, leaned on the rail you and me listened to the water crach on the rocks below us and we talked but now it was not about catching up you and me it was about ideas, dreams, plans and before I knew it we were out there for nearly an hour, and I said, “what about your girlfriend?” she was waiting for us all that time and you said, “oh, yeah” and didn’t move an inch

you are you’re pretty as a picture you’re as sweet as candy you are like a brilliant light you have pearly white teeth you have chiseled features you have piercing eyes you have a heart of gold and a sandpaper voice you’re postcard pretty you’re as meek as a lamb you’re clean as a bone you’re as faithful as a dog you have a steel will you’re as strong as a bull you’re drunk as a sailor you’re like an idiot you’re like a broken heart you’re like a zombie

Copyright Janet Kuypers. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission.

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