Selling Rhymes

These lovers languishing lazily, Lazy morning simplicity Lazy, over the papers, he Says I'm unimpressed if you outshine me An endless stream of lips and wine — Everything that isn't mine — I'll never know if it was true, But I'll wonder sometimes about loving you And you don't give up until you'll be The artist-lover you couldn't see You don't give up until you'll be The artist-lover you couldn't see And she says she'll love you some day But I don't have to to tell you I love you so loud anymore. I don't have to be where I fall on the floor anymore. The Brooklyn lovers we'll never be — Off-white sneakers and languishing, Packing, moving, so aimlessly Isolated from anything. She says she'll love you some day She says she'll love you some day She knows she'll love you some day Don't hate her; she'll love you some other day And the women I love are so dark in their light to pretend, Shielding the lightness like pennies they'd rather not spend. And I hate like a vision how minutes can pass in the night, Afraid at the end of a fiction my mind will be wiped. Holding notes at the end of time, Alone in circles, selling rhymes, Freeze things up in the air sometimes, And never know it wasn't true; But I'll wonder sometimes about loving you.