|
She . . .
She comes to me like a first recital
She comes to me like a great revival
With fiery timidity, like gracefully flat-toed preachy creeds
She comes to me
She talks to me like a train platform
She talks to me like a civil service uniform
She informs me coldly yet arrives so warm, with mass transit cuneiform
She talks to me
But I want to know
Will she talk so well once she knows the real me?
I’d love to know
Will these moments last long enough for me to see?
And she laughs just like an old saloon
She laughs like a slowly drained balloon
Just like a half-drunk buoyant piano tune, like a moment stretched out from night ‘til noon
She laughs with me
But I want to know
Will she laugh so well once she knows the real me?
I’d love to know
Will these moments last long enough for me to see?
She looks at me like a question mark
She looks at me like a diving shark
Just like an aquatic, grammatic living spark
Like a sharp-toothed curve with a dot so stark
She looks at me
But I want to know
Will she look so well once she knows the real me?
I’d love to know
Can these moments last long enough for me to see?
|
|
