Every time she asked me
or hinted about it in that
unsubtle manipulative manner
('so and so said she thinks
you're in love with me,
how ridiculous is that?')
I lied - I lied, even when prompted.
It's difficult to envisage meeting again -
I'd probably offer her coffee
even though the milk is stale.
And I imagine that she'd ask me again
(after getting enough booze in our systems)
and I know that this time I wouldn't lie
though I'd give exactly the same answer as before.
We'd listen to Lou Reed
and she'd recline on my couch
and flirt with me as before
(never one for accepting futility)
then like old times
she'd leave just after midnight,
both of us in quite high spirits
(yet secretly never wanting
to speak to one another again.)
Author notes
Inspired by number 6, lyrics.
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Comments
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Some interesting attitudes at work here, the things we say, the things we feel..the limits we set; and then the dynamics. There are moments we wish for and those we don't, odd how they sometimes wind up repeating, some good ideas, very good writing...PK
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