Nothing is more seductive than a voice that knows itself
inside and out, peeling away formality and space so distinct
between two people who’ve just met. That’s how you got me
when I swore I couldn’t be gotten- I just didn’t see you coming.
Now I wish that we had made it last longer than it did
when I was a young punk in love with a wise man.
Decades ago made longer by your vanishing
when you walked away and I knew from your back that it was
all over, that I wouldn’t see you again until the next lifetime.
That lady in Mississippi was right, back when there was a coast
to go to- colder than it ever got, no day for beach or water,
driving past casinos and seafood shacks
we saw the sign Psychic Readings
sending peals of laughter through the car. Wreck of a house
full of kids with runny noses, kitchen in the back heated
by an open oven. She took my hand and held tight, so tight I
worried until I saw you in the next room smiling at her daughter.
He’s not the one, you won’t marry this one. But I want to.
Doesn’t matter, he’s not the one. Then who is?
Haven’t met him yet, he’ll come in late, show you the world.
This guy shows me the world. He’s not the one-
what else you wanna know? Then what is he? I love him.
Honey, he’s a past life thing, he’s something you not ever
gonna understand or stop.
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