Sylvia speaks to me in tongues
That no one else understands.
And the words she whispers
Collectively poison me.
slowly.

She speaks of love songs
And of thunderbirds that
Do not return,
And I wonder if she was
Speaking about you
and me.

But Sylvia, unlike I, did not
Understand that there
Was more to life
Than diaphragms and
Of forgotten lovers -

she did not have you like I do.