Goop Happens

Goop Happens


Every time Gwyneth Paltrow

endorses a pillow case

an angel wakes up to find

its face laying flat against a soiled mattress,

and its wings have rotted off

and wealthy peoples pillows,

the pillows owned by the kind of pillow owners

who can afford to follow Gwyneth Paltrow’s advice,

those pillows

immediately commit suicide by hanging

themselves on their old cases

or phone in for a refill

on their xanex

whatever comes first

and Chris Martin cries

like a silk tuba huddled in the far corner

of an un-goop’d upon bed

and I don’t blame him because

Trust me, Helen

we can, everyone of us,


It’s a hard thing to live through

that moment when the lady you love

Goops everything up

and endorses another man’s

pillow case

in the broadest daylight


and that goddamn moment

having to stand there,

un-enduring as they pronounce

their hard/fast declaration

that the life you have together

is instantly/just like that

it’s gone

Perfectly good pillows

doomed forever, just like that


These are the things that will haunt us

and cause all those nerves

in our necks to pinch themselves off

one by one

at a time……..

“What’s in the box?!”

I pretend Chris Martin, screaming

in a Brad Pitt accent

(from that one flick where he played Death

and didn’t know what he was doing,

that’s the Brad Pitt accent Chris Martin nails here,

not Brad’s accent from Legends Of The Fall

or The Councilor or Seven or Fight Club or

True Romance, or Benjamin Buttons

where goddamn it, I love him

he’s great)

“What’s in the box?!” Chris Martin screaming

the perfect impression of Brad Pitt

trying to be Death

because it’s the sort of thing we all scream

occasionally and/or everyday

and night

between muffins

and Bukowski brawl

bar fights

the truth being nothing we’ll ever be

prepared to hear, when we’re having

a conversation like that

What’s in the box, Gwyneth?

Grey palazzos, diuretic licorice,

somebody else’s Oscar,

half a labia, maybe

and a fortune cookie prediction

portending something, shit

how do I know?

It’s 3 a.m. again

and this entire thing’s making me miserable

(must watch Planet Of The Apes damn it, stat!)

Goop begets more goop,

and whatever’s in there

it’s none of anything’s business

these things, whatever they are

down there, in Gwyneth’s box

…….they’ve been floating around in there

for god knows how long

in charge of everything down there, though

there is a leader (Mad Max post-apocalypse style)

it appears to be a scroll of some kind

and it looks like it says something

about the early mysteries of human civilization,

expensive secrets for curing eye wrinkles,

and an overly ornate recipe for whipped cream

Is this actually, information?

What are we supposed to do with it?

I don’t know

What I do know

Another’s Arms

off the Ghost Stories album

That’s a great song

so what are we supposed to do?

Post Marvel Movie Style Credits:

Another’s Arms Part 2

I still remember the first time

you gooped all over me

just like I still remember

the first time I gooped

all over you

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