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There was a time...
But where was she
Forlorn? Forgotten scores, unsettled riddles
Verse, revised reclusive reckless cheap thoughts of reckless voice
Unheard, these walls are also cheap, to paint with blood, a pint she gave
Before last part, and then I came – a sober dream – a virgin lost,
Another speck of dust La Paz
The screenless windows hardly pass for screamless nights that used to last
They still have souls, though Mexican, I hear them mourn
And I oblige with the disparity of Russian scorn, and youth
Where did it go, where did it come from? And, you, too,
You were a stranger once
And since.
There was a time but where was I
A mediocrity of stupid with a beard
Wave after wave
Atlantic beaches of pure blue, oh how they yearn and how she lets them
Dance after dance
A moment spared then drowned then washed up and burned out in the August sun
Torn but not torn out and not forever
Worn out though, but at least, together
There is still time but where are you?
Sold out life that begs the question on aisle two
She might forgive, she might forget, but she’ll not speak, like us, until she’s through.
And even then, there will still have been a time