I’m Your Girl, Leonard Cohen (Just Don’t Tell Your Dad)

(play the video and read along)

Dear Nathan Cohen,

I’m in love. With your son. Sure he’s old, but you’re dead and, besides, I should have broken this off long ago. Building shrines isn’t healthy. Don’t cry. You’re only a magazine clipping*; you’ll make your colors bleed. The truth is we never stood a chance. Not once, not ever. The truth is I felt sorry for you.

The truth is your son’s voice makes my underwear weep.

You don’t even have a voice! Just the rustling of pages, occasionally the squeak of Windex on picture frame. At least you smell nice. Scented candles were a good idea, but they can only get us so far. A girl has wants.

Your son is accommodating. He wears masks when I need another kind of love. What do you do? How can you put a mask on your face when you don’t even have thumbs? Or a face?

I have to run. Leonard is at the door and – - dear god – - he’s holding a Darth Vader helmet.

Goodbye, Nathan. I’ll make certain your box finds its way to a nice home at our next yard sale.

Best,
Rahawa

P.S. I’m keeping the candles.

*Nathan Cohen died in 1944. No magazine clippings of the dashing, clothing store owner are known to exist.