Ladybug in my loft,
December snows settle in
And you're a fugitive -
An old crone or child
Born in unfortunate seasons.
Crawl around my counter
Between towels and tea candles-
There's nothing here for you,
And my windows have been
Sealed shut for weeks -
How long have you been hiding
Among the folds of my linens
And listening to the songs
Of my loss and lost longing?
I suppose, we're not so unalike
Children of misplaced generations
Wandering in our un-reason.
But you remind me of pretty
Hipster girls in polka dots
Drinking cheap beers and
Dancing to The Dresden Dolls.
Places I should be,
Down stalking the ghetto's streets,
Because there's nothing here for
You, or for me.
Let's wait out the winter here,
Together - see if we can make
Good roomates through New Years.
We'll sip champagne together,
Listen to the pistol pops
Play out through the valleys
Of the city's taller buildings.
If by spring, you're still here,
Well, I'll crack my windows
And let the new born air in,
Leave the wintery season behind
And depart as strange friends.
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