Glittering

How did we ever get in this party?

They must have thought we were the help

The mid-June moon

Over the World Trade Tomb

I don’t want to leave this rooftop

With anyone else

The host is a rich old bachelor

Loves what I paint

Your platinum hair

Is like permission to stare

You say, considering the three thousand churches

In this town there are precious few saints

Chorus:

And it is summer next week

If I could have remembered to speak

I would invite you to Coney Island

Not easy surviving

In a city where indifference

Is often the closest thing to kindness

I’m just wondering

If you are also pretending

Not sure I deserve a happy ending

Glittering, glittering

We were glittering

They warned me it all ends

Embittering

Yet I swore it wouldn’t happen to us

Flickering lighting

Down the complex stairwell

And you made a joke

About us being murdered

Then your brother got ashes

Caught in his sunglasses

At that point your attitude became

Quite a bit sterner

You accused me of contentment

Cause I had something going

While the absurdity of our lives

Had been revealed bare

According to my recollection

We parted at an intersection

The host advised you

Are not exactly rare

Chorus

Twenty years later

It’s happy hour

At the bar where I tend for

Rent

You have the same circuitous grin

Here at Tailspin

And the corners of your five spot

Are bent

The art world hyped me

Then forgot completely

The end of my career couldn’t have been

More discreet

Never saw you on television

But wouldn’t make an assumption

You stare an extra second

Order another Whiskey Neat

Chorus.