National City

Tagged:

From the ice-hard
Stage
Of Imagined love
Or some resemblance thereof,
The musician wails
A tune of hearts in pieces
And doors which swing,
click-click
To lead one into scenes
Of unimagined sorrows
Sadder, colder
Than the ice-box
From where we got the can
And popped its top
Which started all this
Misery
In the first place.