You were sitting in your car
smoking a cigarette,
looking for all the world
like a pound shop prince
a marketplace marquis
about to steal my heart

And I fell,
so quick and hard
that my feet touched
nothing but thin air,
on the way up or down

And there’s never been a summer
that flashed before my eyes
as fast as ninety eighty-nine

And I wonder
of all the things you’ve done,
the places you have been
without me
The things that you have seen
my eyes have never touched on.