Under the Table

I think of hotels and of trains, of rumbling wheels.
I think of that girl, tripping in her plateau high heels.
I think of a dragon breathing flames that lick the sky.
I think of a guy I once knew who had a glass eye.

I think of all the drops of water in the sea.
Of oranges and lemons, of vitamin c.
I think up words to whisper into an elephants ear.
I don’t think of the fun we’d have, if you were here.

I miss you, I don’t miss you.
I don’t have to think of you.
I can think of a tale or a fable,
I can think of a palace or a stable,
I can think you under the table.

I think of time that runs like sand through my hands.
About marching bands and the universe that expands.
I think of all the thinks I can possibly sculpt with bread.
I don’t think of you, think of catching the wind instead.

I think of the tree we used to climb so we wouldn’t be found.
I think about life on a planet that’s square instead of round.
I think of hitching a ride on a tight rope walking kangaroo.
I don’t think of how happy I’d be to talk to you.

I miss you, I don’t miss you.
I don’t have to think of you.
I can think of a tale or a fable,
I can think of a palace or a stable,
I can think you under the table.

I miss you, I don’t miss you.
I don’t have to think of you.
I can think of a tale or a fable,
Think of pasta or electric cable,
I can think you under the table.

I miss you, I don’t miss you.
I miss you, I don’t miss you.
I miss you, I don’t miss you.

 

The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali

The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dali