When I spiral, it’s no waltz

I don’t fall like autumn’s leaves,
I lack their certain grace;
No -
I plummet like the driving rain
Blowing through cigarette smoke late at night

Is that what you wanted me to tell you? Not quite?

Stop searching for my poetry, it makes my skin crawl.
I’m not your great mystery, your tiny dancer
Your savior or your sin

For the love of god,
don’t stand in the waters at the bottom of this cliff
waiting to catch my fall

Go back and wander through the graveyard of my lovers
And memories of New Jersey,
If you don’t believe me

Let me walk out into the evening, like Auden may have done
I’ll be there to watch when the lovers have left
And the deep river still runs on