Hey Arnold does not belong to me.
So It's Like That...
Helga had over reacted in the park. She always overreacted. She had only taken a few steps away when she thought she'd better not screw up whatever chance she might have with Arnold by being uptight.
She ran back to the park. Arnold was sitting on the bench staring off in the distance. She approached him slowly. "Arnold," she called, "Hey Arnold, I am sorry."
He looked at her, "Well you should be but I am not really mad at you."
"This is really hard for me to say. Arnold, I think you are an alright guy. You're smart, cute and funny and you're awesome at baseball. I like you a lot actually. This whole thing is weird."
"It doesn't have to be."
"No matter what, it is weird. Have you heard what people have been saying?"
"I don't really pay attention?"
" People have been saying that you are too good for me. 'That no matter how good I look, I am still the bitch.' Why would you want to deal with a bitch?"
"I think that you really do have a lot more depth and sincerity than a lot of other people. You don't kiss anyone's ass. I admire that, you've got integrity."
Helga looked away, she felt like crying but she was too angry and the tears were stuck in her throat.
"Helga, look don't listen to what other people say." He stood up and put his arms around her but she pulled away.
"Arnold, I really have strong feelings for you but this is never going to work right now. Maybe someday or in some parallel universe I could explain myself better but just not right now. Who would have thought a stupid kickback would bring so many problems. You know, I didn't want that to happen like it did. There just can't be anything between us."
Arnold looked at Helga sadly, "It's like that huh?"
"I guess so."
He kissed her check lightly and they both walked away from each other.
It had been a few weeks and Arnold and Helga hadn't really spoken to each other. There were polite hellos and cordialities but nothing more than that. English had been hell and this week they had to perform a poem they selected. It was that day Helga had decided to perform a poem by Emily Dickinson.
She stood in front of the class, her hair was a mess and she was in her warm ups for softball. Her face wore an anxious expression. She looked at the class avoiding eye contact with Arnold. "I decided to read this particular poem last night. I had actually intended to read something else but this really moved me. She took a breath and began reading:
I cannot live with You -
It would be Life -
And Life is over there-
Behind the Shelf
The Sexton keeps the Key to-
Putting up
Our Life - His Porcelain-
Like a Cup -
Discarded of the Housewife -
Quaint - or Broke -
A newer Sevres pleases -
Old Ones crack -
I could not die - with You -
For One must wait
To shut down the Other's Gaze down -
You - could not -
Nor could I rise - with You -
Because Your Face
Would put out Jesus' -
That New Grace
Glow plain - and foreign
On my homesick Eye -
Except that you than he
Shone closer by -
They'd judge Us - How
For You -served Heaven - You know,
Or sought to -
I could not -
Because You saturated Sight -
And I had no more Eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise
And were You lost, I would be -
Though My Name
Rang loudest
On the Heavenly fame -
And were You - saved -
And I - condemned to be
Where you were not -
That self - were Hell to Me -
So We must meet apart -
You there - I - here-
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are - and Prayer -
And that White Sustenance -
Despair -
After she had finished reading she looked up at Arnold, her eyes were red. Mr. Davis thanked her. The class clapped and she sat down. Arnold was deeply moved, He raised his hand, "Mr. Davis I would like to go next."
Arnold stood tall in front of the class, "This is a poem by James Fenton. Currently, Fenton is a professor at Oxford. I really like this poem. So here it is." He looked straight at Helga and began:
In Paris With You
Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm marooned.
But I'm in Paris with you.
Yes, I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess that I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.
Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elyees
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I am in Paris with you.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with...all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.
Once again the class clapped and Arnold sat down. Helga was red but she wouldn't look at Arnold. They both spoke through their poems that day, Helga being firm and delicate at the same time through Dickinson. Arnold wanting to say "Sod off to everyone they knew and just being together. They wouldn't though, it was just like that.
So It's Like That...
Helga had over reacted in the park. She always overreacted. She had only taken a few steps away when she thought she'd better not screw up whatever chance she might have with Arnold by being uptight.
She ran back to the park. Arnold was sitting on the bench staring off in the distance. She approached him slowly. "Arnold," she called, "Hey Arnold, I am sorry."
He looked at her, "Well you should be but I am not really mad at you."
"This is really hard for me to say. Arnold, I think you are an alright guy. You're smart, cute and funny and you're awesome at baseball. I like you a lot actually. This whole thing is weird."
"It doesn't have to be."
"No matter what, it is weird. Have you heard what people have been saying?"
"I don't really pay attention?"
" People have been saying that you are too good for me. 'That no matter how good I look, I am still the bitch.' Why would you want to deal with a bitch?"
"I think that you really do have a lot more depth and sincerity than a lot of other people. You don't kiss anyone's ass. I admire that, you've got integrity."
Helga looked away, she felt like crying but she was too angry and the tears were stuck in her throat.
"Helga, look don't listen to what other people say." He stood up and put his arms around her but she pulled away.
"Arnold, I really have strong feelings for you but this is never going to work right now. Maybe someday or in some parallel universe I could explain myself better but just not right now. Who would have thought a stupid kickback would bring so many problems. You know, I didn't want that to happen like it did. There just can't be anything between us."
Arnold looked at Helga sadly, "It's like that huh?"
"I guess so."
He kissed her check lightly and they both walked away from each other.
It had been a few weeks and Arnold and Helga hadn't really spoken to each other. There were polite hellos and cordialities but nothing more than that. English had been hell and this week they had to perform a poem they selected. It was that day Helga had decided to perform a poem by Emily Dickinson.
She stood in front of the class, her hair was a mess and she was in her warm ups for softball. Her face wore an anxious expression. She looked at the class avoiding eye contact with Arnold. "I decided to read this particular poem last night. I had actually intended to read something else but this really moved me. She took a breath and began reading:
I cannot live with You -
It would be Life -
And Life is over there-
Behind the Shelf
The Sexton keeps the Key to-
Putting up
Our Life - His Porcelain-
Like a Cup -
Discarded of the Housewife -
Quaint - or Broke -
A newer Sevres pleases -
Old Ones crack -
I could not die - with You -
For One must wait
To shut down the Other's Gaze down -
You - could not -
Nor could I rise - with You -
Because Your Face
Would put out Jesus' -
That New Grace
Glow plain - and foreign
On my homesick Eye -
Except that you than he
Shone closer by -
They'd judge Us - How
For You -served Heaven - You know,
Or sought to -
I could not -
Because You saturated Sight -
And I had no more Eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise
And were You lost, I would be -
Though My Name
Rang loudest
On the Heavenly fame -
And were You - saved -
And I - condemned to be
Where you were not -
That self - were Hell to Me -
So We must meet apart -
You there - I - here-
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are - and Prayer -
And that White Sustenance -
Despair -
After she had finished reading she looked up at Arnold, her eyes were red. Mr. Davis thanked her. The class clapped and she sat down. Arnold was deeply moved, He raised his hand, "Mr. Davis I would like to go next."
Arnold stood tall in front of the class, "This is a poem by James Fenton. Currently, Fenton is a professor at Oxford. I really like this poem. So here it is." He looked straight at Helga and began:
In Paris With You
Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm marooned.
But I'm in Paris with you.
Yes, I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess that I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.
Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre,
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elyees
And remain here in this sleazy
Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I am in Paris with you.
Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with...all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.
Once again the class clapped and Arnold sat down. Helga was red but she wouldn't look at Arnold. They both spoke through their poems that day, Helga being firm and delicate at the same time through Dickinson. Arnold wanting to say "Sod off to everyone they knew and just being together. They wouldn't though, it was just like that.