Sonata

http://in.youtube.com/watch?v=84wiSBP42Fw

I came across a short film by Ryan McDougal on youtube, and I could not resist setting words to it.

i walk the streets under the moon
to let the darkness conceal
my confusion. i stop by
your window again, and i
gaze in at your pure beauty
and your warmth. you torment
my soul in the agony of
the meek who never inherit
even the dust in my palm. you're
a golden bird on a silver branch
inches away from my fingertips
i'm afraid to stretch out and
hold you in my hand i'm afraid
you'll fly away and i'll never
see you again. footsteps crunch
past beyond my vision and i wonder
what it would feel like with
you by my side. i wish
i had something more to offer
than this timid little rose but
its red is the red in my veins
calling out my love my pains
all the things i should say
but cannot. time trickles by
shadows melt beneath streetlamps
and yet i wait. should i take
this chance should i leap
can i fly... i turn to walk away
but i cannot run from you.
now it's my hand on your doorknob
and your song on my lips.

back again on the streets
hair plastered to our scalps
it's a rainy evening this time
with you it's always easy
easy laughs an easy silence
as we splash through the puddles
hand in hand
like we've been doing this forever
in fact maybe we have
drenched in lovesongs and mud
you can splatter me now with the
fragrance of newly-washed earth
because I tickled your ribs but then
you're laughing anyway
we stop for hot chai somewhere
and rag the vendor under his umbrella
then the neon lights up the lanes
the stormclouds look sullen now
tired now quieter softer perhaps
the madcap dash in the rain is done
we move on through the crowd
looking for some trees some dark
letting the drizzle wash away
all the spaces that fell between us

Keepsakes

I met her on the corner of the parking lot.
She looked like a beautiful bellydancer with
one of those exotic foreign names like
Entiesca or Meraille or Serane or Betsy,
you know what I mean.
Trippy high heels and long red dress
high collar and long hem
with a flash of riding boot peeking through.
She had a cigar in her lips
a sneer in her body
a bruise on the thigh I never saw.
When she saw me, she laughed
then she threw her ring to me.
I'm going to die someday, she said
and baby you'll never see me again
so I want you to have a keepsake.
I turned the ring over in my palm
a cheap gaudy bauble a dime a dozen;
what am I to do with this, I demanded.
She laughed again louder boreder
kid, toss it to another passerby
continue the spiral
flush it down the drain
wear it on your finger
all the same to me.
Seems like there ain't much in life
that's not the same as that ring.
She left me staring at her butt
swinging down the cracked old sidewalk
heels tapping out the years sadly.
She was right; I never did see her again
maybe she died maybe she cried
maybe she found another ring
for the old one's buried beneath a rosebush
guess she was right about that one too.