So here we are again, full of cool
And knowing, with Billie Holiday
Breezy and fuzzy through the smoke
Your deep slanted grin
The trilby matchstick men on the wall
Tassled ruby lamp shades purple throws
On camel furniture - awkward wooden scaffolds
Every trail of smoke
Every quiescent gin lipped prophesy

So here we are again, sad to say,
Sad to be told, with cackling gulls
Eeking at the morning tide
You sit naked at the foot of the bed
Dragging long and slow at a paper roll
Half closed dark eyes pinch at hours
Half open mouth creased and wordless
Every trail of smoke
Every moment we ever fought to lose

So here we go again, truth be told,
Over coffee as trilby matchstick men
Dance lira and deep-eyed gypsy romance
Long nothing stares around short
Everythings ' let me know ' give us that
I cannot swim in mud
But your eyes ' those lost ribald
Eyes that shame the recalcitrant robe
Peer from behind your short lost smiles

So there we go again, I can but admit,
My long sharp nose pressed against those lips
Like a letter opener in a bag of hot coals
My arms still perfumed my throat still moist
You hair still static your cheeks still full
And as you leave, the unpaid bill at my elbow,
I see a crispness in the pavement puddles
The slow lepton of the lonely strolls
So I have another coffee
I have another smoke

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