you could be a waitress,
and serve cheap cigars,
to fat mustachy old men in suits,
you’ll look cute.”
I wish that I had the spirit and clarity that you seem to be dangling out to me from threadbare sweaters and well-labeled suit jackets. I am the one who speaks in lyrics, my friend, since when do you? And you say to me in the simplest of terms that you learned how to love from me, and I laugh because truly I feel clumsy, and a catastrophe, in regards to love. You knew that already, didn’t you? But, it is never all that simple, is it?
No, no, my darling, it never is that simple.
New York (live) :: Stephen Fretwell