Confess it, you hear them too.
Those bells in your heart
won't let you sleep.
That black hallway in your lungs
won't let me in.
I know you better than you
do, better than you think, baby.
I am young, but I am not too young
to know that when you are alone,
everyone is old.
Listen to the blackbirds roosting
on the ground floor of this old motel.
I know you think there's nothing there,
but plans are made to be broken.
At least that's what she always told me,
showing off the gap between her thighs.
Wasting away, walked by the movies,
you need to remember I am yours, I am
yours and his and hers, baby, I am
the generous sort. I was raised that way.
So take the time to get to know me, if you would.
I try not to ask for much but I am always hungry, it's never
enough, this blackbird pie and mottled love.
The chirp of your insects is all I hear now, like background
wind that never dies, a million miles from any ocean.
