I wanna tutor Katy Perry by:
Elias Baez
I wanna tutor Katy Perry pro bono, purely in service to the fact that she’s a poet who calls herself a songwriter, and she is, but I’ve never heard her say she’s also a poet, and I’m becoming worried no poets who know they’re poets have told her.
Every popstar is a poet, but most don’t know it. Pop lyrics, tilted against a certain slant of light, read literally like Emily Dickinson’s letters to whatever ex-flame made her come to God and be the patron saint of celestial flies, third-floor altitudes and four-four time.
Maybe this is presumptuous, but I’m a teacher who doesn’t like school so I’ve gotta be creative if I’m gonna stay a teacher for the people that school got fucked up.
Once on the bus in 4th grade, this girl called me the Walking Encyclopedia, because I’m so annoying and love to babble about history like it’s a river in the living room or it’s a belt buckled by the sun, and I go on and on cause I get caught up in the songs that snag like ribbons on hedgerows, though this ribbon isn’t pink or blue, it’s both, androgynous and melancholy like hydrangeas.
I’ve been feeling like cafeteria leftovers lately. Last night, I dreamt an apple peel and a smushed carton of chocolate milk sunk a Hail Mary in the fourth quarter. Or inning, whatever. The point is, the dream told me I need to be real (which, I find being real disgusting) because footballs are made of pigskin, and pigs are super real, and smart. I’ve got a soothing speaking voice, and I like reading till my voice gets tired, and then a little more. I don’t know what I’ve been training for, so I’m vulnerable to the thought of this being it. I’m most awake at 3:36 AM, the time when Margarita, en route to being Queen of the Devil’s full moon ball, is free to feel her wrath and pity balanced on a flying broom. I may not be Oxford, but animal and baby both tend to like me. This must mean something.
I’m trying to tell you why I wanna tutor Katy Perry, but I get so distracted I lose track of why I got talking at all. I shouldn’t have mentioned the belt and hydrangeas before, that was weird of me; I promise I’m professional, sweet yet tart like cherry pie, and like really good with computers.
