I cannot share my deepest thoughts here Not among the endless cups of boiling coffee And blues singers wailing on the radio Not among the cubicles in neat perfect rows. I look often for a place to bind to For a companion to comfort me Someone who’s toenails I could clip After a bottle of champagne in a warm bath towel. We would talk And I would tell her how she hasn’t been The only one I’ve ever cared for But that she was the first to ride By my side saddle in the new Mustang. But somehow I think The fantasy of that whole stanza In the greater work of my ultimate comedy Cannot be fate or destiny
Attributes | Values |
---|---|
rdfs:label |
|
rdfs:comment |
|
dcterms:subject | |
abstract |
|