1373

oh you’re so blue

I don’t know what to do with you

the weatherman crows

on all fours

and your lips are so red

who have you been kissing

a ladybug on the lapel

giving up its color

I guess that’s it

at nine

I put on my bellbottoms

and appease the Jesuits

missionaries

the line outside my door

don’t you like the way

my hips move

I ask the electrician

our fingers entwined

deep in the socket

sixty feet tall

he parks his car

and feels

feels

he tells me

I feel a little withdrawn

am I withdrawn

how’s my color

don’t you think red

looks good on me

blush

and all

you

‘ve

got a sack of bad news

and I lick my fingers

undoing twine

and flipping

through stiff pages

looking for my name

all in my script

to me

dear me

now

now

don’t ask about

it

I can’t tell about it

I’ve got no feelings about it

and I would say them

I think

anyway

to me

from me

why don’t you