Own up and feel better, bobby, nothing like dead letters and past philanderings with the truth to unsheathe you as truly ruthlessly delusional, uncouth, rude and blinkered, boinked and buzzed on purple juice. Crow not that dogood nazis and driveways nuts did you in. Your sin was in not singing. Your win is winding down anyhow, loud as you are, fond as you are wagging fingers at foes, trusting no one cept those Etobicoke hos. Dial me and I'll return your call: you must resign, that is all.
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poem. Show all posts
10/31/2013
3/09/2013
Pink socks
Pink socks in my nose
on the brown couch, in a row
are somewhat better than sweaty toes
but above both of those, is-not ironed clothes, not your feet decorated in red rows
-the warm winky weirdo I chose.
on the brown couch, in a row
are somewhat better than sweaty toes
but above both of those, is-not ironed clothes, not your feet decorated in red rows
-the warm winky weirdo I chose.
8/17/2010
my little lady
works hard all day
much work no play
my little lady don't stray she's
wearing her silver blues and needing new shoes
and lying on the deck by the flowers at a quarter past
two - maybe just for an hour cause who knows who
will call the hotline?
do I buy red roses when asked to now
she still smiles at the power of flowers I
shush her now she calms right down she works so hard
and right downtown so proud I tell her that; how she is my
champion
much work no play
my little lady don't stray she's
wearing her silver blues and needing new shoes
and lying on the deck by the flowers at a quarter past
two - maybe just for an hour cause who knows who
will call the hotline?
do I buy red roses when asked to now
she still smiles at the power of flowers I
shush her now she calms right down she works so hard
and right downtown so proud I tell her that; how she is my
champion
7/07/2010
RIP Musa
I rode by on a Monday morning and
saw the police tape.
So many times served by the waiter
in the cowboy hat
I never minded the wait
French toast smothered in maple syrup
Red bricks eaten by flames
On a weekend with so many fire alarms
In a city that lives to blame
When power goes out in a heat wave
We rush to corners to direct the cars
But when Sundays are snuffed like a lit cigar
The police state's rather lame
And my daily pass through Dundas
and Euclid never will be the same
[See "Fire destroys Musa and several homes at Dundas and Euclid"]
saw the police tape.
So many times served by the waiter
in the cowboy hat
I never minded the wait
French toast smothered in maple syrup
Red bricks eaten by flames
On a weekend with so many fire alarms
In a city that lives to blame
When power goes out in a heat wave
We rush to corners to direct the cars
But when Sundays are snuffed like a lit cigar
The police state's rather lame
And my daily pass through Dundas
and Euclid never will be the same
[See "Fire destroys Musa and several homes at Dundas and Euclid"]
2/23/2010
What we did
We were warned about the snow. We told you so. We were taken in arms. What could be the harm? We were troubled to see nothing apparent in our destiny. We were asked to sacrifice, were promised hope and given the key to kingdom. We were championed by the press, then forgot to dress. We hid our gifts, and lavished paper money on the problem. We asked for advice when it did not suffice. We drank all Sunday, combed our hair, shaved our beards, we lived in fear.
10/07/2009
That one song over and over
[always skipping over half the words]
I met this lady, I love her, lovely, fair. I'd go for days about her hair if you'd let me. I promised I'd write her but have been swaddled in sacred feelings for a couple years. I made provision only for burps or farts, no knowhow to explain those dimples that bring me tears.
***
There're only seven songs in the universe, and I've gotten used to one
I do like variations on a theme, but
if there's only one way to flatten out into a runway, carry all your friends
so we land with dignity
if there's still a reason to blog
if someone on this passive intelligent planet hasn't learned to read then
I'll gladly stay stodgy if it means I can pay an entrance fee to see
a lone lost tourist find a reason to fall on his knees
and I'll wait to hear minds click, my
mouse is making me sick;
you there,
too entertained to realize your boredom
too sustained by routine to fall down running
on empty
you there, I need lost little lambs like you! we need a lost little land like ours. we live lost lives, learning to get big, know ye not that ye are gods? and
the kingdom's within you
there's that ancient wisdom burning through, I thought technology'd let me forget where I came from? the definition of a fool
I met this lady, I love her, lovely, fair. I'd go for days about her hair if you'd let me. I promised I'd write her but have been swaddled in sacred feelings for a couple years. I made provision only for burps or farts, no knowhow to explain those dimples that bring me tears.
***
There're only seven songs in the universe, and I've gotten used to one
I do like variations on a theme, but
if there's only one way to flatten out into a runway, carry all your friends
so we land with dignity
if there's still a reason to blog
if someone on this passive intelligent planet hasn't learned to read then
I'll gladly stay stodgy if it means I can pay an entrance fee to see
a lone lost tourist find a reason to fall on his knees
and I'll wait to hear minds click, my
mouse is making me sick;
you there,
too entertained to realize your boredom
too sustained by routine to fall down running
on empty
you there, I need lost little lambs like you! we need a lost little land like ours. we live lost lives, learning to get big, know ye not that ye are gods? and
the kingdom's within you
there's that ancient wisdom burning through, I thought technology'd let me forget where I came from? the definition of a fool
5/22/2009
Imagine
Imagine a pickle falling sideways from a tin of tuna-ham.
Now imagine a fat policeman, one who gives a damn.
Imagine a tortoise, feathers in beak, drinking liquids from a coat sleeve in a sorghum silo... midweek.
Imagine a polka dance cross state lines,
or a fantasy camp owned by Larry Fine.
Imagine a streusel fan with a plateful left to chew,
or twenty blackbirds contemplating early curfew.
Imagine a hairless nomad left to solve a Rubik's cube, and dragging sons and daughters to the mouth of the Danube, and he says "Imagine me in front of a screen.
Check your neck for pimples and ensure your nose is clean."
And if you imagine that, then welcome to my dream.
Now imagine a fat policeman, one who gives a damn.
Imagine a tortoise, feathers in beak, drinking liquids from a coat sleeve in a sorghum silo... midweek.
Imagine a polka dance cross state lines,
or a fantasy camp owned by Larry Fine.
Imagine a streusel fan with a plateful left to chew,
or twenty blackbirds contemplating early curfew.
Imagine a hairless nomad left to solve a Rubik's cube, and dragging sons and daughters to the mouth of the Danube, and he says "Imagine me in front of a screen.
Check your neck for pimples and ensure your nose is clean."
And if you imagine that, then welcome to my dream.
1/06/2009
Commuter sentence
Winter loses bloom and leaves
on the ground and the freeze thaw cycle
makes thick jagged potholes right on major roadways like
Bathurst. I live on an arterial road, something about the circulation of the city
I bike uphill to work, I almost die every morning nearly creamed by cabbies I
ride a two wheeled prayer got to make it over frozen tiny ice hills that send
tires skidding dangerous my face brushes concrete curbs I arrive at the office covered in
sweat and dirt
on the ground and the freeze thaw cycle
makes thick jagged potholes right on major roadways like
Bathurst. I live on an arterial road, something about the circulation of the city
I bike uphill to work, I almost die every morning nearly creamed by cabbies I
ride a two wheeled prayer got to make it over frozen tiny ice hills that send
tires skidding dangerous my face brushes concrete curbs I arrive at the office covered in
sweat and dirt
8/25/2008
Whither
Broken silence is regretful
When absence is the thing I've lacked
But generalizations, I find too stressful
That's how I earn my 'Man in Black'
I don't thrive on exposition
not so much secrecy as I'm too tired
The only thing I can't remember is
what life was like before the wire.
When absence is the thing I've lacked
But generalizations, I find too stressful
That's how I earn my 'Man in Black'
I don't thrive on exposition
not so much secrecy as I'm too tired
The only thing I can't remember is
what life was like before the wire.
7/23/2008
Watching the chili
I miss you, PM
More than [The size and shape of a nuclear plant cooling tower.]
But now the Internet won't leave me alone.
I would explain more [the above parentheses] but
digits are my job and spitting syllables becomes the enemy, totally foreign to
reveal my mind when my only breath is to
enjoy emptiness, embrace blank slates and
skip along with contentment upon
encountering my harried fellow
citizens in the shopping mall.
More than [The size and shape of a nuclear plant cooling tower.]
But now the Internet won't leave me alone.
I would explain more [the above parentheses] but
digits are my job and spitting syllables becomes the enemy, totally foreign to
reveal my mind when my only breath is to
enjoy emptiness, embrace blank slates and
skip along with contentment upon
encountering my harried fellow
citizens in the shopping mall.
6/09/2008
Love in the Diner (04/07)
I had a strange experience today
After a 30km bike ride to the Beaches
and back in the spitting wind,
I finally made a break at Bathurst and College
at the College St Diner which
serves excellent pancakes although it has been known
to charge 50 cents a packet for strawberry jam.
In my recent streak of sheer psychic excitement
I've concluded I must be having a telepathic effect on total strangers
so wrapped up am I in this, this thing for which I have too much respect to name
that steam is pouring out my ears and infecting others
anyway it must have been a sign when
just after I ordered the 'Can't Talk, Eating' hungry-man special
four goodlooking philosophers (definitely not Toronto natives) - one woman, three men -
well coiffed, toned, erudite and inquisitive
sat down next to me and proceeded
to hold forth on
LOVE
'what love is' one of them asked
and that hooked me
and what's the difference between love and being in love
and whether love is an overused word
how it means whatever it wants to mean to whomever wants to use it
how the word means nothing at all, really
and how words generally do that.
I couldn't believe my ears
these philosophers
thirtysomething professorial types
the kind who can breezily discern semantics over brunch
the four most intelligent people on the planet, really
having this analytical argument
about the meaning of love
in which
my universe hung in the balance
they were talking about me
everything seems to be about me lately
- I deserve a healthy shake, I know -
I would have banged my sugar shaker on the table
to get their attention
saying 'hey folks, love is war and
you're looking at one of the foot soldiers!'
but I'm trying to give up sugar
in favour of healthier smoothie-type things
and so I kept silent
and they kept mocking me
four feet away
but the coincidence was too precious so
resourceful as I am I
asked the waitress for a pen
so I could jot this down for later
that was my revenge for
them talking about me and my war
ie me writing about them
so I unfolded my bike map of toronto
with the entire city depicted
(I use that map to figure out how to get around)
and wrote all over it but now it's ruined as
in scribbling in all of this
my words filled in all of lake ontario and half of the downtown west end.
(i know I must be preoccupied these days
but there are sensible ways to deal with it and there are crazy ones for
instance
on the way out of the diner
thinking about what it all meant
I accidentally walked right smack into the
women's bathroom
I guess I was looking for you
luckily no one screamed
but boy was I red.)
After a 30km bike ride to the Beaches
and back in the spitting wind,
I finally made a break at Bathurst and College
at the College St Diner which
serves excellent pancakes although it has been known
to charge 50 cents a packet for strawberry jam.
In my recent streak of sheer psychic excitement
I've concluded I must be having a telepathic effect on total strangers
so wrapped up am I in this, this thing for which I have too much respect to name
that steam is pouring out my ears and infecting others
anyway it must have been a sign when
just after I ordered the 'Can't Talk, Eating' hungry-man special
four goodlooking philosophers (definitely not Toronto natives) - one woman, three men -
well coiffed, toned, erudite and inquisitive
sat down next to me and proceeded
to hold forth on
LOVE
'what love is' one of them asked
and that hooked me
and what's the difference between love and being in love
and whether love is an overused word
how it means whatever it wants to mean to whomever wants to use it
how the word means nothing at all, really
and how words generally do that.
I couldn't believe my ears
these philosophers
thirtysomething professorial types
the kind who can breezily discern semantics over brunch
the four most intelligent people on the planet, really
having this analytical argument
about the meaning of love
in which
my universe hung in the balance
they were talking about me
everything seems to be about me lately
- I deserve a healthy shake, I know -
I would have banged my sugar shaker on the table
to get their attention
saying 'hey folks, love is war and
you're looking at one of the foot soldiers!'
but I'm trying to give up sugar
in favour of healthier smoothie-type things
and so I kept silent
and they kept mocking me
four feet away
but the coincidence was too precious so
resourceful as I am I
asked the waitress for a pen
so I could jot this down for later
that was my revenge for
them talking about me and my war
ie me writing about them
so I unfolded my bike map of toronto
with the entire city depicted
(I use that map to figure out how to get around)
and wrote all over it but now it's ruined as
in scribbling in all of this
my words filled in all of lake ontario and half of the downtown west end.
(i know I must be preoccupied these days
but there are sensible ways to deal with it and there are crazy ones for
instance
on the way out of the diner
thinking about what it all meant
I accidentally walked right smack into the
women's bathroom
I guess I was looking for you
luckily no one screamed
but boy was I red.)
10/02/2007
"It's WHO you know..."
Words break hearts
study invisibility
few syllables from thinkmaker,
stunned silence
imaginative laziness
narrowminded nepotism
penchant for pre-approved lists
distorts reality
repeats history
'we only accept
published authors'
ensures mediocrity
unplowed potential
I don't have patience
for unsurprising revelations
afraid to lose a job
ie enemy of truth
I don't love truth when I might die.
study invisibility
few syllables from thinkmaker,
stunned silence
imaginative laziness
narrowminded nepotism
penchant for pre-approved lists
distorts reality
repeats history
'we only accept
published authors'
ensures mediocrity
unplowed potential
I don't have patience
for unsurprising revelations
afraid to lose a job
ie enemy of truth
I don't love truth when I might die.
9/08/2007
CNE
sweet smells my mind
remembering her hair,
jetscreams everywhere
airshow blow-by
blonde with blue eye
what time wasted I
and now must we die
having lived just now
alive
remembering her hair,
jetscreams everywhere
airshow blow-by
blonde with blue eye
what time wasted I
and now must we die
having lived just now
alive
8/13/2007
yee-haws while you can
Astonishingly correct, derelict and sweaty.
smashing horrific devilishly explicit - I'm out of honorifics
- I'm simply a sleuth
freakishly Turkish and bonded to teeth
I'd mix a wet martini but I've got no sweet vermouth
washed into whirlpools and dried on the dock,
unlocked and spun out, it's eternadoubt,
so erase graffiti, my dear Sylvester-Tweety
"Cartoons are what I'm on about."
I quiver as I wait: it's a date with Michaela Simmons Jasper Tate!
High fives to Ebeneezer 'the Colon Cleaner' Johnson-Skinner, bean-counting with tweezer feelers; he scammed a scumbag subscription from the Publishers' Clearing House
"online beejeezus-healers' hot summer sale spectacular" with free
push-button crackhead codebreakers and hot-flash menopausal McDonald's grandma pie-a-la-mode-baking features, three to a box, twist off the box-top and you've got yourself a cure to chronic chest congestion and dry, hacking throat coughs...
smashing horrific devilishly explicit - I'm out of honorifics
- I'm simply a sleuth
freakishly Turkish and bonded to teeth
I'd mix a wet martini but I've got no sweet vermouth
washed into whirlpools and dried on the dock,
unlocked and spun out, it's eternadoubt,
so erase graffiti, my dear Sylvester-Tweety
"Cartoons are what I'm on about."
I quiver as I wait: it's a date with Michaela Simmons Jasper Tate!
High fives to Ebeneezer 'the Colon Cleaner' Johnson-Skinner, bean-counting with tweezer feelers; he scammed a scumbag subscription from the Publishers' Clearing House
"online beejeezus-healers' hot summer sale spectacular" with free
push-button crackhead codebreakers and hot-flash menopausal McDonald's grandma pie-a-la-mode-baking features, three to a box, twist off the box-top and you've got yourself a cure to chronic chest congestion and dry, hacking throat coughs...
6/24/2007
These are your eyes
multicoloured flashes
green blue lightning
strangers ogle, waitresses gush
lucky me
I bask all day
puts a stupid grin
on me;
the irony is that
wherever you gaze we
see the
brilliance only
you can't see.
(and mirrors aren't the same)
green blue lightning
strangers ogle, waitresses gush
lucky me
I bask all day
puts a stupid grin
on me;
the irony is that
wherever you gaze we
see the
brilliance only
you can't see.
(and mirrors aren't the same)
6/04/2007
We are hard won
(best writer's block you ever had - enjoy it)
We wear
bloody battle fatigues
best dressed
in symmetry
you and me, writing history
wildasimaginable fantasy and
extraordinary reality
Never had much to say
but always had the
flair to say it
got my attention now
don't know quite how to say
but it's time I
I took the time to pay it so
today it's
let me catch breath
air my bones
after my hall of fame home run
away from home and
unplugged phone
I ran a month-long marathon to tell you that
we won we won we won
happiness shrivelled the
sighs upon the
laptop, yammering
fighting not to mix up ecstasy
with pop
but sweetness + fizz is everywhere and
I'm a pig for slop
so, indeed
why stop
?
Silence
submerged in the brain
for years shouting over rain
now silence
brought by this
bliss
bursting at the keys
gravy
on our knees
waiting, oh
till sky clears
poems appear
content blares
pelican man cheers
and ms. rhythm despairs
the cupcakes —Jesus, for all they are
they're what they are and
they are half-baked to
please us
We wear
bloody battle fatigues
best dressed
in symmetry
you and me, writing history
wildasimaginable fantasy and
extraordinary reality
Never had much to say
but always had the
flair to say it
got my attention now
don't know quite how to say
but it's time I
I took the time to pay it so
today it's
let me catch breath
air my bones
after my hall of fame home run
away from home and
unplugged phone
I ran a month-long marathon to tell you that
we won we won we won
happiness shrivelled the
sighs upon the
laptop, yammering
fighting not to mix up ecstasy
with pop
but sweetness + fizz is everywhere and
I'm a pig for slop
so, indeed
why stop
?
Silence
submerged in the brain
for years shouting over rain
now silence
brought by this
bliss
bursting at the keys
gravy
on our knees
waiting, oh
till sky clears
poems appear
content blares
pelican man cheers
and ms. rhythm despairs
the cupcakes —Jesus, for all they are
they're what they are and
they are half-baked to
please us
5/11/2007
rhyming as sleep aid
(a week with no words - wakes you up at 2am with itchy fingers)
After midnight with no one around
the wolves are silent, well profound
atop a mountain, climbing down
to the heart of an ocean underground
what sleep may come with a beating drum
nobody now to rub my tum
lie on the floor and pray for sun
when morning makes you run
the glow persists, vigil screen
too old to pretend to scream
no nightmare pillows, it's you I dream
and plunder what it means.
O fog sit thick atop my brow
tired bones beat back the drowse
warm words rock me gently now
[I see no point asking how.]
After midnight with no one around
the wolves are silent, well profound
atop a mountain, climbing down
to the heart of an ocean underground
what sleep may come with a beating drum
nobody now to rub my tum
lie on the floor and pray for sun
when morning makes you run
the glow persists, vigil screen
too old to pretend to scream
no nightmare pillows, it's you I dream
and plunder what it means.
O fog sit thick atop my brow
tired bones beat back the drowse
warm words rock me gently now
[I see no point asking how.]
5/05/2007
Channel changing blues
(hey - by the end it starts to makes sense!)
Witness this
we words work wonders
deliberate misses, don’t strike the missus
“Today I was threatened with a baseball bat”
so I’ve been saving kisses, and I’m
done compensating with a kitty cat. I
switch too fast, hang on
get steam, make it last; we
oscillate, can’t let your logic penetrate – I don’t
have time for eventual comprehension
we have a seven-city tour of
the
septic tanks.
If you were exhausted like me
these little bits are plenty feed
so don’t choose, just beg
be satisfied, signals collide we sigh
don’t die yet, go on a diet
of fibrous thoughts, roughage regurgitated
for rectal rumination, when you
barely gather your carcass
after sweat and elation
victorious and arbitrary
competition is something scary on your
face and I’d
marry that face to mine
and await my bottle of wine
we circled that date
months in advance
and now I’m ready
done floggin’ the remote
or switching sides in my one-paddle boat;
let’s watch every program; I don’t interrupt.
[Although I might occasionally curse the sky and get up if
it’s one of those two-hour documentaries
on the history of the menstrual cup!]
Witness this
we words work wonders
deliberate misses, don’t strike the missus
“Today I was threatened with a baseball bat”
so I’ve been saving kisses, and I’m
done compensating with a kitty cat. I
switch too fast, hang on
get steam, make it last; we
oscillate, can’t let your logic penetrate – I don’t
have time for eventual comprehension
we have a seven-city tour of
the
septic tanks.
If you were exhausted like me
these little bits are plenty feed
so don’t choose, just beg
be satisfied, signals collide we sigh
don’t die yet, go on a diet
of fibrous thoughts, roughage regurgitated
for rectal rumination, when you
barely gather your carcass
after sweat and elation
victorious and arbitrary
competition is something scary on your
face and I’d
marry that face to mine
and await my bottle of wine
we circled that date
months in advance
and now I’m ready
done floggin’ the remote
or switching sides in my one-paddle boat;
let’s watch every program; I don’t interrupt.
[Although I might occasionally curse the sky and get up if
it’s one of those two-hour documentaries
on the history of the menstrual cup!]
4/12/2007
Have no doubt
(I want this to be talked about.)
Truly, I’m tizzied. Has it affected me? Certainly, since last week I’ve dreamt, not slept, swept and checked my countenance for cracks, carefully counted my steps and spent sweat, pain, laughter all spun together in this mind-churning infatuation with your brain.
And your name! I am ashamed; I have not yet said your name to you. All of the above has numbed my voicebox, a blow from which I can’t recover, and beyond my lyrics and drums, I do confess: I fear my rubber tongue.
And “Oh but reality,” the fingers wag, citing polysyllabic nonsensicalities, eventualities, uncertainties, contingencies, superstitions and fragilities:
For instance, it is true, we have not met. And do we both clean our apartments? Do we disdain four-legged pets? Do we like the mornings? And do we both eat meat??
I do, I love meat. I do. I’ll get my fill at our first meeting, with eyes that taste every inch of you. And I’ll call the banquet hall tomorrow, if you like what you see too.
But do not doubt the serene certainty in my insanity, surety in my naivete, Samsonlike strength in my devotion to this realism. Full of bull? Oh no. Ole!
Truly, I’m tizzied. Has it affected me? Certainly, since last week I’ve dreamt, not slept, swept and checked my countenance for cracks, carefully counted my steps and spent sweat, pain, laughter all spun together in this mind-churning infatuation with your brain.
And your name! I am ashamed; I have not yet said your name to you. All of the above has numbed my voicebox, a blow from which I can’t recover, and beyond my lyrics and drums, I do confess: I fear my rubber tongue.
And “Oh but reality,” the fingers wag, citing polysyllabic nonsensicalities, eventualities, uncertainties, contingencies, superstitions and fragilities:
For instance, it is true, we have not met. And do we both clean our apartments? Do we disdain four-legged pets? Do we like the mornings? And do we both eat meat??
I do, I love meat. I do. I’ll get my fill at our first meeting, with eyes that taste every inch of you. And I’ll call the banquet hall tomorrow, if you like what you see too.
But do not doubt the serene certainty in my insanity, surety in my naivete, Samsonlike strength in my devotion to this realism. Full of bull? Oh no. Ole!
4/05/2007
Backflips
(folks, we have arrived)
The written word is a funny thing.
I get the feeling you're
less sentimental than I
so you won't think twice
about me waxing
about how
important it is that
since I discovered your
existence I have resolved
to meet you
as soon as possible.
Oh I've been plotting suddenly
-and this is nothing like me-
and scheming,
every song selected
for maximum meaning
and melting of
your shivering hard diamond heart.
Call me a wacko
but a sliver of me
suspects
for the longest time
I've been writing
about you
-wacko, yes-
bet you didn't
know that
but here just now
I catch myself staring
at you
and reading you
in disbelief and
afraid to tell anyone
lest
they pinch me
and
I can't deny
this egocentric eccentricity
-so indulge me, please-
that if you were conjured
from poems
I've been writing for years
'Measuring the best of me,
awaiting her, clandestinely'
then it's nothing at all for me
to wait a bit longer.
I'll do what I have to.
Wait, yes.
When it's
blind love, Tom waits
But today I got my wish
and
will
see you soon enough
thanks to two unlikely cupids
and boy yeah now I'm being mushy and stupid and
be warned that
in person I tell shockingly horrendous puns!
The written word is a funny thing.
I get the feeling you're
less sentimental than I
so you won't think twice
about me waxing
about how
important it is that
since I discovered your
existence I have resolved
to meet you
as soon as possible.
Oh I've been plotting suddenly
-and this is nothing like me-
and scheming,
every song selected
for maximum meaning
and melting of
your shivering hard diamond heart.
Call me a wacko
but a sliver of me
suspects
for the longest time
I've been writing
about you
-wacko, yes-
bet you didn't
know that
but here just now
I catch myself staring
at you
and reading you
in disbelief and
afraid to tell anyone
lest
they pinch me
and
I can't deny
this egocentric eccentricity
-so indulge me, please-
that if you were conjured
from poems
I've been writing for years
'Measuring the best of me,
awaiting her, clandestinely'
then it's nothing at all for me
to wait a bit longer.
I'll do what I have to.
Wait, yes.
When it's
blind love, Tom waits
But today I got my wish
and
will
see you soon enough
thanks to two unlikely cupids
and boy yeah now I'm being mushy and stupid and
be warned that
in person I tell shockingly horrendous puns!
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