Would you like a drink?
Could you hold my hand?
Love for ever more?
No sweets, nothing quite so grand.
Let’s just find the dawn
And split up the day.
Should love bother to show
We’ll allow it to take its sway.
Don’t want no skinny love.
Don’t want no promises for the wind.
Just some time in your company;
Just share the space with someone kind.
Would you care to dance?
Mind the rutted grass and all—
The dust is enough to kill.
Can you feel the accordion’s call?
Back to the room:
After you, of course.
Let’s go find somewhere to eat,
I’m hungry like that horse.
Patates acadien, gumbo eleve
A chardonnay, esprit de coeurs
The feast casts a chance:
May I follow thru your door?
the grass is cut,
the clippings all swept away,
as the sun whittles down
the end of this third April Sunday.
cat meows for dinner,
his feed dish piled up high;
as the laundry waits for folding—
the clothes at last are all dry.
what nonsense will the week bring?
will I continue being so alone?
as unanswered are my dreams
and dusty the bell inside an unrung phone.
see, the Moon rises
and Spring toddles on,
as a one-row Cajun accordion still calls
after all these long years gone.