Glittering
How did we ever get in this party?
They must have thought we were the help
The mid-June moon
Over the World Trade Tomb
I don’t want to leave this rooftop
With anyone else
The host is a rich old bachelor
Loves what I paint
Your platinum hair
Is like permission to stare
You say, considering the three thousand churches
In this town there are precious few saints
Chorus:
And it is summer next week
If I could have remembered to speak
I would invite you to Coney Island
Not easy surviving
In a city where indifference
Is often the closest thing to kindness
I’m just wondering
If you are also pretending
Not sure I deserve a happy ending
Glittering, glittering
We were glittering
They warned me it all ends
Embittering
Yet I swore it wouldn’t happen to us
Flickering lighting
Down the complex stairwell
And you made a joke
About us being murdered
Then your brother got ashes
Caught in his sunglasses
At that point your attitude became
Quite a bit sterner
You accused me of contentment
Cause I had something going
While the absurdity of our lives
Had been revealed bare
According to my recollection
We parted at an intersection
The host advised you
Are not exactly rare
Chorus
Twenty years later
It’s happy hour
At the bar where I tend for
Rent
You have the same circuitous grin
Here at Tailspin
And the corners of your five spot
Are bent
The art world hyped me
Then forgot completely
The end of my career couldn’t have been
More discreet
Never saw you on television
But wouldn’t make an assumption
You stare an extra second
Order another Whiskey Neat
Chorus.
