They spoke on the phone,
he with a view of the city lights,
she in the hotel's glass stall.
What do you have on? he asked.
Her legs, in a skirt,
crossed up on the wall.
What did you do and where did you go
and what did you think
and God this is so-
and who will be at your breakfast
tomorrow?
What did you dream
and what is in store?
(They'd seen one another
an hour before).
And how does the world
seem to you over there?
I wish you were here.
I wish this was fair.
No comments:
Post a Comment