the night in yonkers
and it was raining cold
outside the beaten up old window
chipped green paint lay round its edges
always wondered why no-one cleaned that up
but there were deeper things in that home
she eyed the door with a rancid thought
and said that she had failed to fire
but would not elaborate
only smiled in a wicked way
and lit another cigarette
that glowed like a evil eye in the semi dark
of new yorks night
the ripped up mattress had holes
and stains that made my skin crawl
but she leaves little choice
sleep next to her or get the freak out the door
so we lay there all night talking in random ways
bout things cant even remember now
just remember how soft she was
and the tattoo on the back of her neck
how it tasted sweaty
and then we did it
and how she tasted tired
but she was so good and kind
and the rain never did stop that night
it just kept slipping down to its doom just like her
just kept going on and on
never paused to consider
but that was just her way
she was never good with people
come on babe you shoulda stayed home
never shoulda gone onto yonkers
never shoulda found yourself on the wrong end of that
it never did stop raining that night
really hope she made it home