Wrinkled White Linen Shirt

Sadly, I remember traveling on the Orient Express; I dashed a note off to you on my last aerogram, including the recipe for my grandmother’s spoon bread that you’d requested during your last visit. I fiddled with the mother of pearl buttons on my white linen shirt. The front was wrinkled from me slumbering earlier in the afternoon, and there was a spot of egg yolk from yesterday’s breakfast. I slouched on the banquette sofa in my cabin and stared out the window until the steward brought me a warm Pot de Crème au Chocolat. My iPod was playing Mark Eitzel singing “Sacred Heart”. Maybe this was the perfect moment to be fleeing from Paris. Will I return to your kisses? Will trying it once more time make our love magical again?
“Now I’m out walking on Saturday morning
without a direction, I’m a dime a dozen,
a worthless tourist – a walking target
with his eyes stuck on glue and paper
no roof to crawl under
but with a heart full of rain
a heart full of rain.
Full as the clouds
my throwaway map should throw me away
and where does it take me
streets long since flooded
raindrops and heartbeats
though Noah doesn’t want me
you won’t let me drown.
I don’t need to see you
I just need to feel you
when we make love
feel you in the dark
feel you in the future
when we make love.
Up in heaven do we make ’em burn up
or do they ignore us bigger fish to fry
waiting with the others at the Sacre Coeur
many different colors from all over the world
here in the City of Love
no one wants me here
but I remember
the sweet things we did together
when we made love.
Saturday morning waiting with the others
listening to Messiaen waiting in the dark
at the sacre coeur the future doesn’t matter
nothing lasts but the dark
where we feel love
track me down and I’ll give you
my pomegranate heart my throwaway heart
track me down and stop me
I’m ripe enough for the terror
that lies at the center of my heart’s desire.
I’m always alone I’m always alone
I’m always alone I’m always alone
and I don’t want to be always alone.”

From the wonderfully gloomy and romantic “60 Watt Silver Lining”


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