Wednesday, January 31, 2007

284. Manhattan Transfer

After the last dance
fantastic, orgiastic,
came the feeling
I'd been here before,
but I still don’t know
what it is you want me for.
Whatever it is
I will do it anyway.

Here in the city
the whiff of drains,
the clatter of trains,
traffic on bridges,
all the pale wan faces
in corner coffee shops:
I feel giddy, ethereal,
inane: do you think
that we will meet again?

Lipstick, chewing gum.
I never see you
apart or standing alone;
I never see you
parted from your mobile phone.
I try to analyze you:
I despise you,
I adore you.
I can only implore you
to let me go. I don’t want to know
the lines of this soaring crazy song.
When you smile, contained and lazy,
everything goes hazy.
Everything feels wrong.
Even with a fat wallet,
either worked for or stolen,
I could never pay for you,
never in a lifetime.

Here comes the bus.
One bus can take you uptown.
I need you ...
One bus can take you downtown.
... but I don't want you.
One bus can take you crosstown,
if that's what you like.
I don't need you ...
Exact change, baby.
Step behind the white line.
... but I want you.
And one bus can take you
anywhere you want to go.