who knows what will happen
will we grow old?
break the mold?
or fold
and do what we're told?

I tried to make it out, but the winter was cold
and froze
the whole time
waiting for my summer clothes
waiting for a breath of air that wouldn't hurt
waiting for summer shoes
and shirt
and skirt
waiting for the warm and wet kiss
of march
to march in the door
and seduce me

I couldnt take a job that year
I might have done it out of fear

cold and alone
i clung to the phone
the only giver of the warm
the only producer of charm
day after day
i fattened up
and stirred awake in bed

I couldn't wait
for the dawn to break
for a new day to come
to sun away the snow
to wash away the blow
scattered on the streets
and i wanted for the spring
for the soft sight of her tasty eyes
for the feel of her skin
for the smell
of love and life
and sexual sin

now, spring has sprung
from
the bottom rung
under soul and tongue
and all the spring green
growing underneath
was swept from under feet