Marah. The Dishwasher's Dream

Born with a face that life would erase

I chased the frustrated wind to New York

Fell in love with Monique to a Yanks winning streak

And we danced to the popping of corks

I found work in the weeds of the kitchen where the seeds

Of my dreams I did plant in the sink

Where the tower of plates threw shadows on our fates

And I had too much time for to think

Fourteen hours a day left me little time to play

With my lover who slept through her blues

As the sizzle of filets was the soundtrack that played

While I struggled through my headaches and flus

And my vision of a day when we could get away

Seemed t sink into the suds of the soap

That I used to make money that I spent on my honey

For to keep her in Cheetos and dope

One day alone with my thoughts and the pans and the pots

I was beginning to fear for our life

While the burners threw heat from out under the meat

I lunged with the edge of a knife

And as my blood formed a rose with the sweat from my nose

On the face of a China white plate

I returned to a time when hope was our friend

Instead of this bitch that we hate

I fell to the tiles my face was all smiles

The sink overflowing a flood as sous chefs and waiters

And vegetable traders all stood in the path of my blood

I began to relax and slowly unwind and drift off as the maitre’d cried

“Well this is what happens when love starts to rot and poisons the dishwasher’s mind”

I awoke to the sound of Monique calling out from her nightmarish side of our bed

My wrists were all flesh there were no signs of cuts

As I reached out to touch her sweet head

And as the sweat on her face found a new resting place

On the tip of my fingers I leaned

Into her ear and told her no fear

We’re just having the same awful dream