If She Called

She grinds her hips

Maybe arches her back

There’s nobody there to see when she is doing that

The guy’s not there

He just doesn’t exist

She’s looking at empty space when she is doing this

She might walk home

She’s kind of tired

Or spend some of the money on a cab she’s hired

Below a bus groans by

And splashes a man

Who swears out a drunkard’s curse on the whole damned world

She smiles at that

And then starts to cry

She scrubs at a spot on her leg and then lets it dry

Then she’s sitting on the floor

With her head hung down

Listening to another language on tv

Unaware . . . hair unbound

Wondering where her mother and father might be

If she called . . . if she called

She dreams . . . she dreams

Don’t we all dream

A place . . . a way

A recurring theme

She remembers a time

When love was alive

Somehow it get’s lost in the sound of the city’s morning drive

Lost in the sound of the city’s roaring, morning drive