Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Gitta.

She is a good woman
she lights a chord
lights on her cigarette
and drinks to the board

while the tender is brilliant
billowing bright
the good woman smiles
she shouts and she cries

She is a good woman!
She is worth what she takes!
And she'll take what they give her
whatever the stake

For she's a good woman
and she calls me her friend
Yah- she's a good woman
with tears in her gin

her eyes large with ages
with hours of proof
she spills me her secrets
'cause her Englisch ist gut!

and her embrace is longing
we've said what we can
She is a good woman
her drink warm in her hand

thirteen on her tab
she can never afford
but she takes what she's given
she deserves what she's served

For it's never her fault.
She's worked for it all.
She is a good woman
in breaking she calls

"I am a good woman!"
"One of millions." she sighs
"I am a good woman."
"I am a good woman."
"I am a good woman."
She lies.

The Charity

Last night we rode to Dusseldorf
Flashing windows
leather seats
a white business Euro van
and the generosity of the Turk
the most genial

More than his restaurant
more than his motor
his English a broken German
a Kebab of incredible freedom

But some things are not what hey seem
When things are too good they must be
untrue
You cannot trust a dark man
with nothing to gain

So we eat with tendered caution
skip the tea and mind our emotions

The hour comes
it's time to go
and the Turkish man returns
on a smile

Erkan,
his name is Erkan.
Erkan returns with open arms
he drives us through Germany
he only wants to help
with nothing to gain
he is a father
extending good wealth

On we rode to Dusseldorf
suspicion biased and needless
a kind heart rolling down the highway
a white business Euro van
the generosity of Erkan.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Paris 1925

It's a gray day
you walk creaky red shag
hundred year old wood
in a hundred year old flat

It's a gray day
the street is never silent
as you serenade your new guitar strap
and score ping-pong to my head

It's a gray day
I dream of marmalade and cookies
Nutella stuck in my gums
and pancakes

a gray day.

My toes are curled in air
thick with coconut
you scraped thin with your own hands
it's a gray day

The strawberries ripen crimson
without sunshine
because they love pollution
it's a gray day.

You close the door,
to play more private
but I want to be there with you
on our gray day

in Paris 1925.