Carmelita Estrellita (AKA Natalie Estrellita) is a longtime contributor to First of the Month. Fired up by late stylings of Leonard Cohen (among other personal heroes) ourFirst lyricist has been especially inspired lately. Check these new testaments to Estrellita’s wit and the beat of her “knee-jerk heart.”
Touch Me
touch you in the evening
touch you in the dawn
touch you from the inside
until all sense of touch is gone
touch you in the elevator
or in your favorite slacks
in the back seat of limousine
or out on the railroad tracks
touch you in the service sector
touch you in the mirror
touch you in a public restroom
touch you mid-career
touch you in the summer
touch you in the fall
kiss your butts in ashtrays all over
King of Prussia Mall
touch you on your way to the top
touch you all the way down
touch you long after all the other girls would’ve stopped
so long’s you don’t push me around
touch you in the future
touch you in the past
touch you where you’ll know I know
how to make it last
touch you in the afternoon
touch you all night long
touch you on the inside
until the whole wide world is gone
She Used to Make Me Nervous
she used to make me nervous
she used to make me blue
she used to do a wicked good
impression of you
I try hard to be real
it’s up to others what I hope they see
sometimes I’m still a terrified teenager
afraid of who I knew I was going to have to turn out to be
life used to hold me captive
now I’m on medication
I don’t know what I’m talking about
but I can say it without hesitation
she used to make me nervous
driving nails into my head
it wasn’t for any circus
she just wanted me dead
she used to be my mother
she used to be my bane
she hated me immediately
and made it plain
Not One of Us
one of us changed her gender
one of us had two kids
one of us damn near became a doctor
and I forgot what the other one did
two of us phi-beta-kappa’d
three of us married and divorced
two of those three remarried
guess who got addicted to horse
five would’ve been too many
three would’ve been too few
though I was prepared to sacrifice myself
to get the number back down to two
six of us dined like pallbearers
I made a joke every night
just to hear my mom bang enough pots around
to make laughing impolite
four of us could’ve been children
two of us could’ve been girls
two of us might’ve had penises
for no reason in the world
one of us drove eighteen wheelers
medication paved one of our days
one of us kept putting out feelers
so the other three had to put her away
not one of us has discovered
from the time we were all four kids
my father was never going to love us
and it didn’t matter what we did
Panorama-lamma
360° of hell
how could I be so wrong
as to think of myself as a musical instrument
when god stole all my songs
53 years of bridges
55 years of them burned
I never in my life seen white people moonwalk
until all of them to whom I turned
1 guy thinks I’m adam and eve
1 guy thinks I’m a snake
I just want to be one of Cleopatra’s eunuchs
whatever that takes
there’s a knot of men in my stomach
digging their way out with a spoon
if you listen real closely you almost hear it
especially in a full moon
several degrees from universities
dossiers thick as a steak
driven straight out of adolescence
for puns I refused to make
53 years of silence
45 years of cake
21 years of interruptions
5 years fake
360° of hell
what have I done so wrong
as to invite paranoia into my life
for the price of a song
Sorry Sarah (I still Can’t Reach the Brakes)
she hands you a memo
she shows you the door
you’re never gonna write
for Sarah White no more
living in a matchbox
underneath the city
deep in the belly of darkness
where everyone’s pretty
sure you might’ve worshipped her
but were too fucked-up inside
to even listen to her singer-songwriting
so now you hide
you wish you weren’t so mean all the time
you’ve got a knee-jerk heart
you know you’d like her to remember you
but your time together has all been spent apart
she hands you a memory
you cry like never before
she treats you way too kindly
as she ungreets you at the door
you hear the lock behind you
but then that’s what locks are for
after all what am I even still doing here
if I’m not going to write for Sarah White no more??
White Girl Trembling
my hands are happy in her pockets
she hardly knows they’re there
for the first time in either of our lives
I’m wearing underwear
her mind is in my thoughts
her heart is in my mind
she’s generous to a fault
which usually turns out to be mine
we walk around the attic
until we’re one
I’m in a yellow sundress
she’s my son
I glance off her mirror
without a bruise
I just keep getting queerer
my reflection’s in her favorite shoes
my mind is in her pockets
my heart is in her hands
we belong together in a way
only one of us understands
then we flounce around the attic
until we’re one
I’m in my ninth month of labor
she burns down on me like my sun
I climb the stares that look up to her
I don’t like what I see
who is this frightened white girl
trembling in the black wards of me
Anguish As A Second Language
never trust an english teacher
with your heart
he’ll tear it all to pieces
make you hurt until you smart
never allow said english teacher
near your soul
he won’t stay lit forever and
he’ll leave you in a heartbeat and a hole
never let on he’s handsome
never admit you’re a girl
let him into your mouth if you have to
never let him into your world
draw the line at diagramming sentences
nail shut any swinging doors
make sure you both keep keeeping up appearances
squire and strong are already gone and locke’s not my friend any more
never let an english teacher
walk through your wall
once you swallow that trick
you’re going to have to swallow them all
Dottie Makes a Splash (’09 Remix)
Dottie took the jackknife express
into the empty family pool
Dottie just got born again hey
take the kids out of school
Dottie wasn’t a fool
she knew concrete trumps a knife
she’d already been practicing on an empty family
every single night of her life
I’m the only one writing her
maybe she hates to read
maybe I should take a hint from her exodus
let her rest in peace
I dive into her suicide
with her same kind of faith
only Dottie’s never treated me empty
and I always come home safe
they splashed Dottie’s name across the headlines
but it rained and the ink all bled
she never said anything about it to me
is what everybody but me said
her blood hushed up the family pool
we all had to stay inside
trying to learn how to think like bleach
and scrub away the way Dottie died
Why Your Foreign Exchange Student Popped the Wall
she’s got my leonard cohen tickets
wish I could write a song
she’s got a chance her and her friends
to make me throw up all night long
they’re Christians and what’s worse
we’ve been friends for 25 years
but it’s Virginia and arguments of any kind
make decades of history disappear
she stole my bridge
so this isn’t a song
but while I have your attention
have I mentioned I’m always wrong (ask anyone)
being wrong’s not enough for the truly religious
you’re not wrong until we tell you you’re wrong
you’re not right either so don’t leave town
keep on pretending that you’re writing a song
she’s still got my leonard cohen tickets
I’m getting anxious to death
swimming in the dark in the deep end of empty
I might resurface but I’m not holding my breath
Next Time
Next time I’m going to be friendly
Next time I’m going to wear tights
Next time God pulls up beside me
I’m going to be doing what girls do at lights
Next time I’m going to be Mary
Next time my friends will be girls
Next time I’m waiting for a family who wants me
Before I jump off into this world
Next time I’m going to be saner
Next time I won’t be one for the books
I don’t mind if I’m a little bit plainer
Just so I don’t get so many dirty looks
Next time I’m going to stand taller
Next time I’m going to dance
Next time I’m going to have all the babies
Who this time missed their chance
Next time I’ll have anatomy
That thinks the way I do
Next time I’ll understand gravity
Enough to wear high-heeled shoes
Next time I’m going to be beautiful
Even when I shower
Next time I’m going to take the rain
And make it into flowers
And if next time I have a
Satiny ribbon in my hair
I want to look like the kind of person
Who would’ve put it there