CPR

The other night, my boyfriend and I were cuddled up on the couch
with the pets about to go to bed, when a skinny junkie kid appeared
on the street outside our apartment window.
He was screaming.
I recognized him immediately
as one of the junkies my neighbor had called
the police on a couple of nights before because
they had been breaking into the apartment complex.
He was wildly screaming, jumping up and down and
waving his arms around.
I went out on the patio.
"Call 9-11. She's ODing. She's dying."
shit.
He's pointing to an empty lot where they all camp out.
I said, "OK, I won't tell the cops, but what is she ODing on?".
"Heroine".
shit.
And he ran away.
shit.
I grabbed my sneakers,
told my boyfriend to call 9-11 and left.
Then I turned back and said "It's Heroine".
He could tell them if he wanted to.

Without thinking, I ran across an intersection, into some woods,
up a path and found a girl,
on the ground,
not breathing,
and her eyes were rolled back in her head.
Shit.

There is a story in my family about one of my great
uncles having a heart attack in a park,
and some unknown stranger with a butterfly
embroidered on his denim jacket came up and
gave him CPR, saved his life,
and disappeared.
I know this story and
I was a competitive swimmer growing up.
I know CPR.
Also, my mom had informed me that anywhere you
rent video tapes,
you can often get a free tape with your rental that
teaches you helpful things like CPR.

Because of mom,
I have always rented the CPR tape periodically to make sure
I'm not rusty.
I've been through alot of crap in the last two years
and one thing that slipped my routine
was the CPR tapes.
And now I'm leaning over a beautiful girl
who isn't breathing.
Please God, Help Me Remember.
There was another junkie there.
Her boyfriend junkie.
He was sort of beating her on the chest
when I arrived.
I asked him what her name was.
Megan.
I was praying and crying and shouting
and pumping this girl's chest.
I was terrified.
No amount of training will prepare you for the
way a dirty t-shirt and a girl's lifeless ribcage
feels beneath your palms.
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15...
Was it 15?
Dear God, I hope so, I'm praying....
Pump, Pump, Pump...
"Come On Megan, Come On!!!!"
Nothing.
Again
Nothing.
I am crying and praying and pumping this girl's chest.
It is dark,
She is lifeless.
I am on my knees in the woods in the middle of the night.
I am scared.
At one point she made a sound that can not be spelled.
it was like a tiny bit of air going in her throat.
I was relieved and then she went back out.
shit.
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15
I'm screaming at her
"MEGAN... COME BACK"
and I'm screaming praying
"CHRIST JESUS, GOD!!! HELP US!!!!"

She sat up.
The paramedics came.
The guy with her immediately said to her,
"We have to get out of here."
He didn't want to get busted for drugs.
I was trying to tell the girl the paramedics were doctors,
they didn't care.
She walked down to the paramedics,
but the junkie guy wouldn't let her go with them.
Me?
I walked outside the lot,
and collapsed in a heap of tears against a dirty fence.
Thank God.
Thank God I knew CPR.

Boyfriend junkie had become hostile and wouldn't
let her go with the paramedics.
I went to talk to the paramedics.
Instead I went up to her and hugged her tightly.
Boyfriend junkie said, "STOP TOUCHING HER".
Huh? Stop touching the girl I just gave CPR to
for what seemed like hours?
She told me that this was supposed to be her last high
and she was going to rehab the next day.
I told her to go with the paramedics
and to get away from junkie boyfriend.
She said he was going to rehab too,
the next day.
She was sure.
The skinny kid who had yelled at my
apartment window showed back up.
I told the girl that he had saved her life.

I couldn't sleep.
I was haunted by the visuals.
The next day, late in the evening,
I saw her on the street.
Junkie boyfriend's arm locked around her neck,
and she is not in rehab.
She is not going.
Not at all.

Her name is Megan.
She has big pretty blue eyes.
She is a beautiful and kind girl.
She's in her early twenties
And she is going to die in that empty lot.
If she is your child,
your friend,
your niece,
Please, Someone,
Come Get Her.

And please, everyone,
learn CPR,
you never know when you're going to need it.

CROSSED LINE

It had to go down eventually
Things were getting prickily
Layers of deception
over a fitted sheet
Warm hearts are chilled
by unblanketed cold feet
Movement robotic
with metal sound
No speaking allowed,
Things were bound to go down

The welcome mat leads
to the pending back door
Paths heading that way
Steps marked on the floor
Mouths closed in silence
Eyes fixed in a stare
while meaningless chatter
hangs in the thick air
Wrist with balled fist
sport the watch tightly wound
timing the bomb's ticks...
It was bound to go down.

(C)PAULEYP

DOWNLOAD: DEVO

DEVO's cover
of the Rolling Stones song
"Satisfaction"
is a Must Own.

ALL SHOOK UP

I was not amused or touched by the
endless footage and stories
of bush playing around at elvis' home, graceland.
I was disgusted.
C'mon,
Don't Be Cruel.

As a concerned citizen,
I just want to remind you, mr. pressevent,
that at that exact same moment you were photo-oping
there were hundreds of thousands
of mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters,
aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews,
lovers, sons, daughters and friends
who were terrified about the welfare of their
loved ones in this bloody war that you love so much.
There are the thousands of others who are still
mourning ones who have already been killed,
and always will.
These are PEOPLE, not just numbers, not just "troops".
Are You Lonesome Tonight?
Because THEY ARE.

When Fools Rush In to a war that benefits
the senders and not the citizens,
Suspicious Minds question
all of the bloodshed,
all of the costs,
all of the lies,
everything,
that we are paying for,
and we are paying YOU for.
Your Cheating Heart may be OK with it,
but the rest of us might be a little more
honest about the situation..
This is not OK.

There is a Heartbreak Hotel in every town all over
the south of people who lost everything in Katrina.
(That was an awful hurricane that wiped out part
of the poor south, mr. pressevent,
in case you've forgotten, alot of people died, the rest
lost everything they had? Last year? Remember?).
They still have no homes,
they still have nothing,
oh wait, didn't you guys decide to stop funding the hotels
for the Katrina refugees yet offering no real alternative?
Right, my mistake, never mind.

Lisa Marie, Priscilla?
If they want to give a tour to any happy fan,
that's cool, it's their home,
But isn't your house supposed to be the white one?
That one that we pay for and is supposed to represent
the best interest of the people?

I paid for you to dance around at graceland,
and I am NOT happy about that,
when there are hundreds of thousands who will never get
a first dance with their daughter,
a waltz with their wife,
a two step, a little jig, whatever
not to an elvis song,
or to any other song.
And they will never visit graceland.
nothing, ever again.

Blue Suede Shoes?
Nope... toe tags.

Stop, Look and Listen.

(God bless all who are hurting)