Oil in the Pan

Look out! Here comes a brave new paradigm. Ready for trouble? Doesn't matter. Ready or not, trouble will find you. Did you notice that money flows out of your life like water through the holes in the dam made by the terrorist cell that those arab neighbors of yours turned out to be all along. So who's the racist? The racist, or the racist who won't sleep with the racist? And by racist, I mean black person, and by racist, I mean racist.

Stop. Listen to the footsteps of your companion, your life partner, your childparent. Is she dragging her heels? Is he trying to walk the other way? Is anyone there at all? How do you know you're not crazy? You don't know. You could be crazy.

Ever taken drugs? Maybe that's the real sanity and the rest of the time you're all crazy, crazy. Maybe you're still on the playground and hte kids are all laughing at you and pointing with stubby little pointers and calling you Crazy! Crazy! Crazy! Man, that would suck to wake up to when you come out of your twenty year delusion.

Ever been drunk? That's pretty crazy right htere. Ever throw an empty beer bottle at a cop? Ever call your ex in the middle of the night and tell her you still love her? Ever drive?

Maybe you're not crazy. Nobody ever said you were. You can be sane if it's so damn important to you. But if you're sane, why are you so crazy all the time?

You can wear black and be all mysterious if you want to be. You can smoke opium and let your organs utrn to couch cushions. You can smoke grass and lie on the grass and jam out to some bluegrass.

So who's the racist? The fool or the fool who loves the fool? Drop some oil in the skillet and watch the dancing bubbles. Sometimes the hot oil lands on your bare skin. When a drop hits you it kisses you hello and then disappears. Maybe it leaves you a little dirty. maybe it lets you off the hook with a warning this time. Maybe it leaves a little scar, a bouquet of roses, something to remember me by.

I am oil in the skillet and I've been narrating your life this whole time. Weren't aware of me, were you? Thought you could just fry up some vegetables in me without revealing everything about yourself to whom so ever I should tell.

Buzzer. Buzzer. Buzzer. Buzzer. Buzzer.