You Are My One And Lonely

Do you see how we love? What it means, what it means
Do you see how we cry? Do you feel what we feel?
And does it matter? Do we matter? Does any of it matter?
So then, we love. I might love him, I might love her
I might love Rain, or June or Cha Cha, Jack or Isabel
And then we might go here or there, or to Wuhan, or to Jigalong
Maybe we like Heavy Metal or Jazz or listen to Opera at sunset
Perhaps we dance, clumsy, funny, drunk or not
Perhaps we sing, or fuck, or do stupid things like
Run through the plaza being chased by security guards
Because we thought we could climb inside the giant Christmas tree
Did we offend you with that? Did you even notice us?
Do you see how we weep? And sleep with each other
Make love and mess equally and desire each other
Or someone else frequently and need and need
When does it stop? But do you see? Do you see?
When you look up or around, do you know?
Is there here, significance? Is there here, tenor?
Do we sing with tune and relevance?
Or are we playing House or Snap or Monopoly
Or Risk or Chess or Catch & Kiss?
Do you like these games? Did you make them up?
And how do you see me? How do you see me?
Am I a pawn or a Queen? Am I your goal or a daydream?
Am I making a scene or fitting right in?
Am I bathing in righteousness or is righteousness a sin?
But what I really want to know is, do you like what I’m wearing?
And how about these two left shoes on my stinking feet
Stumbling and tripping down this lonely street?

April 2010 Derek Wilson

~ by Derek Wilson on April 27, 2010.