| she went over to his apartment
|
| clutching her decision
|
| and he said, did you come here to tell me goodbye?
|
| so she built a skyscraper of procrastination
|
| and then she leaned out the twenty-fifth floor window
|
| of her reply
|
| and she felt like an actress
|
| just reading her lines
|
| when she finally said
|
| yes. |
| it’s really goodbye this time
|
| and far below was the blacktop
|
| and the tiny toy cars
|
| and it all fell so fast
|
| and it all fell so far
|
| and she said:
|
| you are a miracle but that is not all
|
| you are also a stiff drink and i am on call
|
| you are a party and i am a school night
|
| and i’m lookin' for my door key
|
| but you are my porch light
|
| and you’ll never know, dear
|
| just how much i loved you
|
| you’ll probably think this was
|
| just my big excuse
|
| but i stand committed
|
| to a love that came before you
|
| and the fact that i adore you
|
| is but one of my truths
|
| what of the mother
|
| whose house is in flames
|
| and both of her children
|
| are in their beds crying
|
| and she loves them both
|
| with the whole of her heart
|
| but she knows she can only
|
| carry one at a time?
|
| she’s choking on the smoke
|
| of unthinkable choices
|
| she is haunted by the voices
|
| of so many desires
|
| she’s bent over from the business
|
| of begging forgiveness
|
| while frantically running around
|
| putting out fires
|
| but then what kind of scale
|
| compares the weight of two beauties
|
| the gravity of duties
|
| or the ground speed of joy?
|
| tell me what kind of gauge
|
| can quantify elation?
|
| what kind of equation
|
| could i possibly employ?
|
| and you’ll never know, dear
|
| just how much i loved you
|
| you probably think this was
|
| just my big excuse
|
| but i stand committed
|
| to a love that came before you
|
| and the fact that i adore you
|
| is just one of my truths
|
| so i
|
| i’m goin' home
|
| to please the one i so love pleasing
|
| and i don’t expect
|
| he’ll have much sympathy for my grieving
|
| but i guess that this is the price
|
| that we pay for the privilege
|
| of living for even a day
|
| in a world with so many things
|
| worth believing
|
| in |