flick flick flick flick
as you walk by the iron gate
bars that surround the improbable corner they call a park
in the east village

flick flick flick flick
the sun crashing through the spaces in the bars
landing hard on your eyes
you want to walk by that fence forever
knowing that the light hitting your face
just so...

makes you look beautiful

and its been awhile
since you felt beautiful

and the last time she told you
the light was invading your eyes in a similar way
in the small improbable space they call and apartment
on the lower east side

you were crying
and eyes swollen
and heart breaking
you sat 'indian style' on the floor
she sat across
leaning over to push the hair out of your face
she cocked her head
and asked,
"you look beautiful..."

she says this with the same leftover breath that she used to tell you
that she loves you
but isn't sure if she is still in love with you

the same leftover breath
that just talked about having switched off to you

the same leftover breath where she tells you that
she doesn't have much hope

you don't feel so beautiful now
but you know that the light can play tricks

so
for just this moment
you want to keep walking around this fence.