|
emancipated minor |
|
well-directed |
|
and brilliantly casted |
|
riding the greyhound |
|
down to the city |
|
with her fake I.D. |
|
and a hell of a little handbasket |
|
little game of seesaw |
|
then he came to claim her |
|
and then the sordid line |
|
formed behind him |
|
reproductive system |
|
newly activated |
|
she participated |
|
in nature's plan |
|
she participated |
|
and I can't say I envy her |
|
I don't think I miss it |
|
wrought iron cobwebbing |
|
over thin window panes |
|
the city seducing her |
|
on tiptoe to kiss it |
|
don't think twice |
|
roll the dice |
|
roll the dice |
|
so she took the dance classes |
|
she learned the little dance |
|
and she tried the high heels |
|
but she couldn't bring herself to prance |
|
and all the while a faint ticking |
|
in the silence between the songs |
|
just south of her gut |
|
two tiny time bombs |
|
and love comes in many forms |
|
and for each she would yearn |
|
just hungry as a student |
|
hungry to learn |
|
every species of person |
|
every flavor of intent |
|
with the body pulsing |
|
at the center detent |
|
now all the good graffiti |
|
got painted over in time |
|
she watched the last faceless chain |
|
replace the last five and dime |
|
she wondered if |
|
the only noble thing |
|
is to just get a big garden |
|
and plant it in the spring |
|
and kiss the city goodbye |
|
in a big graceful gesture |
|
and focus on the moon's groove |
|
and groove with the moon |
|
just focus on the moon's groove |
|
and groove with the moon |
|
and I can't say I envy her |
|
I don't think I miss it |
|
wrought iron cobwebbing |
|
over thin window panes |
|
the city seducing her |
|
on tiptoe to kiss it |
|
don't think twice |
|
just roll the dice |
|
roll the dice |
