The Art of Asking; or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let People Help

Exhibit A:

We are friends in a sleeping bag; splitting the heat,

we have one filthy pillow to share.

And your lips are in my hair.

Someone upstairs has a rat that we laughed at,

and people are drinking and singing bad “Scarborough Fair”

on a ukulele tear.

Exhibit B:

Well, we found an apartment.

It’s not much to look at:

a futon on a floor,

Torn-off desktop for a door.

All the decor’s made of milk crates

and duct tape

and if we have sex

they can hear us through the floor.

But we don’t do that anymore.

And I lay there wondering: what is the matter?

Is this a matter of worse or of better?

You took the blanket, so I took the bedsheet.

But I would have held you if you’d only…

let me.

Exhibit C:

Look how quaint and how quiet and private;

our paychecks have bought us a condo in town.

It’s the nicest flat around.

You picked a mattress and had it delivered

and I walked upstairs

and the sight of it made my heart pound.

And I wrapped my arms around me.

And I stood there wondering: what is the matter?

Is this a matter of worse or of better?

You walked right past me and straightened the covers,

but I would still love you if you wanted a lover…

And you said:

“All the money in the world won’t buy a bed so big and wide

to guarantee that you won’t accidentally touch me

in

the

night…”

Exhibit D:

Now we’re both mostly paralyzed;

don’t know how long we’ve been lying here in fear…

too afraid to even feel.

I find my glasses and you turn the light out;

Roll off on your side like you’ve rolled away for years,

holding back those king-size tears…

And I still don’t ask you what is the matter…

is this a matter of worse or of better?

You take the heart failure; I’ll take the cancer…

I’ve long stopped wondering why you don’t answer…

Exhibit E:

You can certainly see how fulfilling a life

from the cost and size of stone

of our final resting

home.

We got some nice ones right under a cherry tree;

you and me lying the only way we know.

Side by side and

still

and cold.

And I finally ask you: what was the matter?

Was it a matter of worse or of better?

You stretch your arms out and finally face me…

You say:

“I would have told you

If you’d only asked me

If you’d only asked me

If you’d only asked me…”