To Whom She Belongs

The skyscrapers bend way over when she walks
A few steps ahead of men like elephants
In a Easter Parade , one twinkles in his mustache.

It is Tuesday her day for shopping and like always
The nasty boy at the car wash sells bus tokens
Then points at her curves and her mole.

There's no rebuking of devils at the church near by
For the priest even knows how fine she was
And is while watering orchids and violets .

The table was cleared early at the resturant , the last
Order was taken and the chef left early
For his revolving one night stand, her glass is empty now .

Just before nightfall and tourist they gather
Like crows in the wheatfields of Van Gogh just to see her
Struggle with too many bags to hold again .

An endless loneliness undraped itself and the city began to cry,
She's so fine, she's so elegant and mine, all mine .

Like sardines she's crushed by bodies on the buss
And a girl smells the perfume of her hair .