When you gonna wake up, baby? C’mon,
play that funky Dixie land, pretty mama,
come and take me by the hand. I wanna hold your hand.
Last night I heard the screen door slam—
I can’t even rewind the tape machine to hear
your drunken reasoning; it sounded thin
upon listening. Sure, I can accept that
we’re going nowhere, but one last time let’s go there,
even if we’re just dancing in the dark. This night’s
the perfect shade of dark blue. Rain falls
angry on a tin roof. Freeze-dried amends,
scalding insinuations. We sure are cute
for two ugly people. Put your hand
between this aching head and this aching world.
We’ll make them so jealous, we’ll make them hate us.
By the way, I’m trying to say I’ll be there, I’ll keep you
my dirty little secret. Can I be your memory?
I’m hanging by a moment here with you. It’s been
one week since you looked at me. Baby,
you need to come home. Can’t you see?