The days, the days!
And the scissors you cut
Your hair with—oh, how dull.
Time to change the needle.
Put on another record
(No, something baroque)
And think of the good times.
Think of lakes and rivers.
It’s hot. Let in some air.
Let the smell of leftovers
Be one with the perfume
Of cooling asphalt, leaves.
And the nights? Ah, wonderful—
You alone,
Alone with the slums,
The flowerpots, the stars.
Think of the sea. Unzip,
Just as though someone were
Around to be made love to
Or anyway to pose for.
The mysteries of sex!
One day you’ll wake up
Back on that Christmas morning
In Mexico, still a virgin