Glass Growth, Ian Spence
These streets aren’t meant for me.
Though once I thought they were
a few blocks and signs and traffic confines
simply meant to be –
But just a few.
Because every turf and hood,
every tiny venue
lately, seems to have been planned for us two.
And I could imagine
that all the night drives are worth the bet
That your flowered body against
your apartment’s lighted double doors
makes the most gorgeous silhouette.
And darling, let me tell you,
these nights I’m mucking through those kitchen sinks,
The possibilities keep on sinking
when I’m trying to guess what one woman thinks.
And all the others ask me-
And I’m asking myself, “Why?”
I’m only one man, after all –
But, you’re so many reasons to try.
If anything, I guess, I’m just waiting to see
during those late nights (on your stiff couch),
If there’s anyone out there
just waiting to stay up for me?
And after each goodbye,
when you engage the elevator door,
I’m thinking there (without you)
like every night before:
Anata ga inai to
kono tokai wa tsumaranai.