i watched you dance
in the middle of the neon lit room
and as much as i loved you
i could not help but feel envious.
there was jealousy i could have sworn would **** me
jealousy for the way you could
move your body to the beats of youthfulness
jealousy for the way you could
smile and laugh with slightly drunken people
you didn't even know
jealousy for your confidence in the restless crowds
jealousy for the way you acted so carelessly on friday nights
the way i wish i could

i only feel alive in the subway.
it is the only place
(speeding, busy, noisy, beautiful in all its glory)
i feel some tinge of hope -
hopes that somehow
we could forget all that had happened
when we fell in love as most people do.
perhaps,
in some station, on any line,
you would happen to walk inside the train
and sit across me
and then we could fall in love again
the way strangers on trains do
fleeting, but at least painless.

yesterdays are a day away
until more yesterdays arrive
and the old yesterdays go farther
and they turn to yesteryears
as new days come
and the first of yesterdays are all too far away
because time is a silly little thing
and we look forward to better days

some barber once told me
i was too fat for my own good
and little me was heartbroken
his harsh words weren't understood

because i was okay when i looked in the mirror
and mom and dad loved me so
but when the barber blabbed on and on
i knew the chubby arms and legs had to go

and so i felt bad for years
until one day i suddenly thought:
i don't even go to that barber's barber shop!
i don't need to worry about the things i'm not!