I want to be a mysterious woman I want to write mysterious songs I want everyone to wonder what is she thinking about? existentialism? nihilism? wrong I am thinking about defrosting my refrigerator but I could get into mysterious mood watch me ask the bartender for a drink he cannot make watch me order mysterious food food even Julia Child cannot pronounce right from cookbooks that time has forgot then maybe I will read Crime and Punishment for fun then again, maybe not I want to be a mysterious woman tantalize you with my come-hither stare maybe it will work a little better if you pretend I'm not wearing underwear If you pretend I was never a Girl Scout and I never learned how to twirl baton ahh I feel a mysterious song coming on I think I hear I scream I think I hear ice cream melting all over the rock hard bread which is stuck to the chicken parts long since dead they're in a cold box within a cold box within a warm box (which is my room) there's a ceiling there's a floor there's a wall there's a window look at the moon it's a marble, it's a button it's a sequin, it's a polkadot stitched into the velvet sky the pocket of Sir Lancelot who is riding on Pegasus who is fighting with the Pleiades who is fighting Cassiopeia who is fighting with Hercules who is fighting with Betelguex who is fighting with the Milky Way that is stuck to the Bird's Eye Peas that is stuck to the ice cube tray that is stuck to the chicken parts that is stuck to the rock-hard bread hey, what am I doing here? I should be home defrosting my refrigerator instead But I want to be a mysterious woman I hate being so easy to read hey, bartender, give me a light yeah, a Bud light and a plate of pommes frites is all I need.