| Svetlana sucks lemons across from me
|
| And I am progressing abominably
|
| And I do not know my own way to the sea
|
| But the saltiest sea knows its own way to me
|
| And the city that turns, turns protracted and slow
|
| And I find myself toeing th’Embarcadero
|
| And I find myself knowing
|
| The things that I knew
|
| Which is all that you can know
|
| On this side of the blue
|
| And Jaime has eyes
|
| Black and shiny as boots
|
| And they march at you two-by-two
|
| (re-loo re-loo);
|
| When she looks at you
|
| You know she’s nowhere near through:
|
| It’s the kindest heart beating
|
| This side of the blue
|
| And the signifieds butt heads
|
| With the signifiers
|
| And we all fall down slack-jawed
|
| To marvel at words!
|
| When across the sky sheet the
|
| Impossible birds, in a steady
|
| Illiterate movement homewards
|
| And Gabriel stands beneath forest and moon
|
| See them rattle & boo
|
| See them shake, and see them loom
|
| See him fashion a cap from a page of Camus;
|
| And see him navigate deftly this side of the blue
|
| And the rest of our lives
|
| Will the moments accrue
|
| When the shape of their goneness
|
| Will flare up anew
|
| Then we do what we have to do
|
| (re-loo re-loo)
|
| Which is all that you can do
|
| On this side of the blue
|
| Oh, it’s all that you can do
|
| On this side of the blue |