The Wanting of You (The Student on Avenue B)

I’m walking in my head down Avenue B
As the echo of a guitar strums
Tightening my overcoat
And waiting for contentment
Like a bus that never comes
Crushing my hat over angry hair
I beg my pocket for a cigarette
And instead I find a nickel
And a crumpled little napkin
With a poem for a lover I need to forget…
The wanting of you
It colors everything I do
It’s in my house and in my bed
It’s there in every tear I shed
When I don’t think I’ll make it through
The wanting of you
It is my unsurrendered prayer
I trace your hands upon my skin
How did I dare to let you in
It’s almost more than I can bear
The wanting of you
I patronize myself as I take my chair
In the couldn’t care less café
Accept the silent greeting of the mother with the baby
And the model with the black shar pei
There’s a NYU kid who raises one lid
Then goes back to his thousand page book…
And I spend another morning tracing stories in the oatmeal
That some Spanish guy did not remember to cook…
The wanting of you
It wakes me up at half past two
With long gone shadows I converse
I think it can’t get any worse
But how I know that isn’t true
The wanting of you
It is a never ending storm
I wear it everywhere I go
Just like a coat that doesn’t know
That it’s supposed to keep me warm.
You…
Knocking on my door, stumbling over words
Laughing at my jokes, losing wallets
You,
Never getting mad, sort of getting mad, never understanding
Understanding everything
You
Absolutely right
Absolutely wrong
Everything that matters…
Nothing but a song
Nothing but a song
I step into the bath round a quarter past three
Let the water ease my wounded pride
I wash away my sorrow with a promise of tomorrow
But the water doesn’t let me hide…
The clock on the wall says go ahead stall
You’re entitled to a way to cope…
And I wonder if it isn’t really lonliness that kills you
I think people really die of hope
of hope
The wanting of you
It colors everything I do
It’s in my house and in my bed
It’s there in every tear I shed
When I don’t think I’ll make it through
The wanting of you
It is my unsurrendered prayer
I trace your hands upon my skin
How did I dare to let you in
It’s almost more than I can bear
The wanting of you.

Almost Everything I Need (The Divorcée on Avenue C)

Who needs a lot of space?
Who needs a lot of light?
I’ll get myself a chair
A pad and pen to write
A ficus for the corner
And some pictures hung just right
And I have almost everything I need
I’ll take some wooden crates
And make a makeshift bar
There’s an antiques fair in Rhinebeck
I’ll just borrow someone’s car
Some curtains for the window
And some daisies in a jar
And I have almost everything I need
So it’s a bit dark
So it’s a bit damp
I’ll just close my eyes,
Pretending I’m at camp
It’s going to be great
It’s going to be fun
With a prayer for good luck
And a bucket of Windex
This room will be perfect
For one
The smell of baking bread
Some good books I can read
A fire escape for dreaming
And a heart that’s finally freed
A brand new life without you
I’m a happy girl indeed
And I have almost everything I need
I have almost everything I need.

I Hardly Remember (The Widow on Avenue D)

I hardly remember your face
I hardly remember the trace of the silver
Of light on your skin
Or watching you sleep
And wondering where do you end
And where do I begin
I hardly remember your eyes
I hardly remember their wise and their weary
Effect on my soul
And losing control
And wondering how it could be
That you could make me whole
I hardly remember
Begging the stars –
‘Don’t make the morning come too soon” –
I only remember
Your whispered ‘I Love you’
Once in a very
Very
Very
Blue Moon…
I hardly remember your kiss
I hardly remember the bliss
And surprise of your hand on my cheek
Or watching you sleep
And marveling at how I loved you so
That I could hardly speak
But winter comes
And springtime comes
And summer comes
And fall…
So much time
To hardly remember at all
So much time…
To hardly remember
At all

Blanket in July (The Jilted Actress in Tompkins Square Park)

She is your blanket in July!
Your red umbrella in the sun!
She is the chance you must pass by!
Can you not see? I am the one!
She is your suit that doesn’t fit!
She is your Oxford’s worn out sleeve!
She is the chair on which you sit!
Hers is the nest that you must leave!
She is the milk that’s ten years old!
She is the algebra gone wrong!
She is the cream of wheat gone cold!
She is the guest that’s stayed too long!
She is your great Aunt’s mildewed fur!
She is the dashboard with a ding!
My dearest one, did it occur –
She is the winter! I, the Spring!
She is the monkey on your back!
You are the turtle in her shell!
I am the bitch poised for attack!
She is your love,
She is my hell.

Sunday Light (The Lover on Avenue A)

I wanted to touch you today
I wanted to take you in my arms
And kiss your green and shimmering
Angry eyes
Reaching through conversation and tea
To the sweet softness of once familiar skin
And the map of love my fingers still trace
In the long ago
I wanted to hold you, lash to lash
Tear to tear, wide awake
And wider dreaming
Sharing a whispered smile
In the private lullaby of Sunday light
And were we not wordless, walking
Wearing the easy rhythm of a city of friends
I would have told you, screamed you –
But I saw your comfort with the now
And thought better of drowning you
In my yesterday
It was then I felt your hand upon my shoulder
Reminding me of the tender truth:
The language of lovers is never lost
Rather spoken a thousand times
In a thousand ways, breathing as we do
In no way a prisoner of mistakes
Or memory
This is the kiss you left me with
Wide awake and wider dreaming –
Sharing once more
A whispered smile
In the private lullaby of
Sunday light.