So this is what you think about things.
Sigh. It would be easier, far easier,
If you sat in the darling dark with your beloved
Playing the piano—standards of jazz and classical,
Professional and dreamy. It brings
To mind the first time you spoke to me;
Very relaxed and very intense, I saw
Nothing except you holding up your paw.
I almost heard your smile.
I wondered. But I haven’t wondered in a while.
Life has a way of overwhelming what you think about it.
Now when she sings, that’s all she does. She sings.
You over-analyzed the lyrics. You’re speaking
Out loud to yourself. You’re not speaking to me.
You have this idea that if you think
About things in this way, it will make a difference.
But it won’t. Even if I agree.