In A Song

No dinner, a cup of tea and then one brandy.

And now I feel ineffable. It must mean something but since the music is swimming around this room and illuminating corners with Schopenhaeur who begs me to inquire further, I cannot tell you, no I cannot, what it all means.

A single teardrop seems to crystallize this experience into something real, something tangible, something that feels like hell...

And I am slightly inebriated but not too much. I drove home through quiet streets, avoided the cavorting animals, stopped at traffic lights, listened to Stylistics and breathed deeply and imagined pearly moonlight spread out like a picnic blanket in front of me.

It makes sense.

It doesn't have to.

And I know you're listening and I know you're laughing and I know you think I belong under twisted sheets and I know, I know, I know...

Everytime I tried to tell you the words just came out wrong
so I have to say I love you in a song....