Autobiograffiti || Passions || Bloodd || Jivepuppi

 JENNY SAYS

The universe in ten billion years old.  Jenny is a ten billion one hundred and twelve year old angel, currently residing at the Celestial Seasons Nursing Home in Philadelphia.  (Not affiliated with the herbal tea company.)

In the beginning was how
And I should know, I was
Who before whoever,
I was also upon a time.
The how came before the `how come?'
Why, they did not tell me.

In the beginning:
The foremen turned forwards,
The cowfolk turned cowwards,
And the poet turned wordwards
So the poem became pome-granite.
This was the first creation, though not my choice.

The first universe was built
On silt
It only lasted half of forever
And even then not the good half.
The poet was embarrassed.
The second creation, I won't mention.
The third time, the poet said,
Let's try six days.

So the skymen turned skywards
And if the heavens did not begin
Right there I swear I'm not who I say I'm not.
(Can you claim this?)
For the heavens to know where they were at
The earth was built as an information booth.
Day-O and day-one.

Was the world born with a navel?
That question answers itself, I think.

All right, already, it was tomorrow
And the poet wanted to showoff
And so invented right then and there
Fishes and bait; taught the former to swim,
Taught the latter to squirm
And an advanced civlization was formed on the spot.
Birds showed up.

Before that previous tomorrow, though I forget just when,
The sun was put on fire.
(this was a big event, like the original Fourth of July)
It looked like the whole thing might not go off as scheduled
(Night was about to come)
Since the matches got wet from the invention of the ocean
Which, though, I didn't mention, was done the day before the previous tomorrow.
This sun event was important to making the fishes
(Though see if you can get them to admit to it).
Important for the birds, too.

Land was made to give the birds a rest
And give a challenge to the fishes.
Before you knowed it, soon some swimmers were double-dared to take a walk
And, when they did, there they met up with trees and flowers
And all-you-can-pick fresh mushrooms and they never did go back.

Next thing the poet turned to mammals.
(This was day five (about or there-abouts))
Several attempts later (all in the same afternoon)
The poet fit the hair and breasts and soft-egg system all in to one beastie.
And the other sex said Wow!
(The other sex already being there on account of being generally easier to assemble.)

In the late afternoon of the sixth day,
The poet discovered two human people walking round with the animals,
These human people being recognizable
By their accents.
These two didn't have names.
Each one just said, "Hey you!"
And never got confused.
This was before blame invented the need for someone else.

Now the male hey-you had imaginary friends
(All of them named hey-you, not very imaginary, to be sure.)
And what's worse these pretend folks just said they were friends.
Together they formed a cons-piracy.

The imaginary folk told him, hey hey-you, why is there only two of your kind
When there are so many others of the others? 
This means you are more beautiful and more important.
The male hey-you believed them
(You have to be pretty smart to be that dumb).
And so he told the female, Hey! hey-you, we must take charge,
We have opposable thumbs, teeth that can chew gum, and not-to-mention our wonderful human-type accents,
(Walking perpendicular can give a body an attitude)

We can have anything we want -
Let's tell the other beasties.
And they did invite their fellow animals to lunch for a political rally
To discuss economic theory
And demonstrate the first ham sandwich.
They didn't understand how this could upset animal family dynamics.
How could they know?
They were born as adults
Maybe this was a mistake.

So the beasties complained and the poet got angry,
Said leave paradise and go somewhere else, only there was no somewhere else,
So the poet gave them a hammer and told them to go make one. 
And the human people have been building ever since.

It was all so sad,
Human people are basically good poems,
Well-put together from a fine idea.
The male and the female rhymed then,
Though they hardly do today.

So the clocks turned clockwise
Smarter even than streetwise
And we all grow old.
The male hey-you lived near nine hundred thirty one years and six months
And, as I have said, he was born already all grown up.
That was a mistake.
He died with the hammer in his hand.

I, myself, have been here for ten billion one hundred twelve years last August. 
That's a long time by some folk's measure.
All this talk of eternal life,
Well, the poet never made anyone live longer than they wanted.
I never wanted to live forever, never had that sense of duty.
To want that you need highly developed feelings of responsibility
Like Gabriel or Lou Gehrig.

For human people birth and death are bloody things
But my folks just wink in and out.
When you carry no regrets, going is easy.
Only human people are born with regrets,
I saw how it all started
(In the beginning was how),
I was there.

Copyright © 2006 martin david hill

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