You Don't Know Me
11/30 2021
As we dance slowly by candlelight,
And you push yourself slowly from me
Saying that you don't know me:
What is it that I owe you?
This interval of time passing
As time passes by me, my chance too,
My hand is much too white, I know,
And I'll never know what not longing tastes like;
Now that the wallpaper is threaded
By the loom of the three fates.
Am I an unlucky guy? No,
No, I really don't think so ---
As you give me your hands, now years ago.
Presently still I sense that longing
As you push from me, to me, all the same;
Slowly, of course. The only way. Come rain, come shine.
To just once escape it, would I consider myself lonely?
Would I wander the middle aged streets of Berlin alone?
Would the street vendors play Mr. Vinton
As they see me passing by?
Would the bottle of wine sing my tune
Along with the perennial smoke?
Would I be happy remaining there,
Dancing alone by kitchen light?
Years from now, dancing by the same candlelight:
Will you push yourself slowly from me,
Saying that you don't know me, and walk away?
What is it that I owe you?
A nickle, a dime?
The rest of... the most fleeting moment?