Monica

I remember Monica at the U.S. Open

She might have been 16

Couldn't have been much more

Answering some questions and giggling

I'd never seen someone so alive on TV before

Do you remember Monica shrieking on her backhand?

Disguising herself when she went out at night?

Coloring her hair like something was telling her

Stay low, invisible and out of sight

And then, Monica, the blade came, Monica

Like God spitting on you, a knife in your back

We read it in the paper and moved on to other things

But for you all the colors fade to black

And oh, Monica, there you are, Monica

On the cross with Jesus and Martin Luther King

Just like John Lennon by that hotel

You have to pay for our sins

Was it like being raped? Was it like being dead?

Like a bad movie over and over again?

Then did everyone who came close to you

Suddenly hold a knife in their hand?

And now, you're back, Monica

Grim and hammering

Trying not to think about that thing then

I hope that you win every medal you can win

But it may never be much fun again

And oh, Monica, there you are, Monica

On the cross with Jesus and Martin Luther King

Just like John Lennon by that hotel

You have to pay for our sins

Just like Jesus by that hotel

You have to pay for our sins