Me and a backpack and a ticket in my hand
to see Elvis Costello tonight,
as though he were an old friend I were flying to visit. On second
thought I'll e-mail him instead, send him
into a tizzy over a poem I wrote on the bus last night. Confessional,
completely, because I can't really sing.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment