i'm
training
to
be
a
stenographer
in
case
you
were
wondering

one
london
night
a
stranger
read
my
poem
and
then
she
danced
to
it

the
genre
in
which
I
like
to
write's
the
one
where
we're
making
love
tonight

I
read
her
words
and
thought
they're
better
than
mine
she
knows
my
heart
my
mind

summer
nights
summertime
sadness
summer
blues
summer
rain
cruel
summer

summer
in
the
city
summer
blues
summertime
sadness
cruel
summer

i
wanted
to
see
france
so
i
looked
up
old
tom
ripley
and
his
wife

I
don't
believe
in
ufos
babe
but
I'd
love
to
see
one
with
you

no
helmet
laws
just
a
motorcycle
and
the
idaho
highway

it
wasn't
quite
fall
summer
hadn't
left
yet
it
was
the
harvest
moon

their
music
was
loud
their
arms
hung
out
the
car
windows
they
took
in
the
breeze

I
dreamed
you
in
my
childhood
home
making
love
to
you
by
the
hill

the
crow
left
a
feather
for
me
in
the
yard
today
that
was
nice

he'd
said
my
poems
were
compelling
which
meant
I
was
compelling
too

I
want
your
body
on
mine
tonight
I
want
it
like
a
nude
painting

I
want
a
cold
wind
blowing
outside
the
house
and
a
fire
beside
us

it
was
a
first
quarter
moon
orange
and
strange
behind
a
grey
smoky
veil

a
dry
smoky
veil
layed
itself
down
upon
my
little
valley

if
I
hadn't
gone
out
that
whole
conversation
wouldn't've
happened

I 

sing 

your 

praises 

when 

you're 

not 

around 

hoping 

they 

might 

float 

on 

the 

wind