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I measure out her sugar, a little extra for the spoon
Here's another Wednesday and I'm a stranger in the room
Plastic roses drinking wandering shadows of the water
That worm their ways beneath the frame of a man froze in laughter
Grandma was alive in 1955, with whiskey, boys and cigarettes and her skirt above her thighs
Needle in the groove in those rock 'n roll rooms of smoke and perspiration, cry –
Ooooh, sweetheart, it's 1955
Spin me like a record, honey, and say we'll never die
We're never gonna die, no we're never gonna die
In twilight days at the edge of the bed,
She would watch her husband carefully undress
His penis just there like an estranged relative
And she would feel the very smallness of the room
There would be no fire in his leaving
No broken plates, no slamming doors
No other woman to despise or to envy
She would just find him on the floor
Grandma was alive in 1955
Every day above her lover's bed a king stood crucified
Her mother in her head like a cat whines at the door
You will learn, my daughter, sigh –
Oh, sweetheart, it's 1955
I came with just a suitcase just to see that you survived, just to see that you survived
Just to see that you survived
Grandma was alive in 1955, with whiskey, boys and cigarettes and her skirt above her thighs
Needle in the groove in those rock 'n roll rooms of smoke and perspiration, cry –
Ooooh, sweetheart, it's 1955
Spin me like a record, honey, and say we'll never die
We're never gonna die, no we're never gonna die
~ Brendan Bonsack 2012
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