distance in the streets
We left behind when we crossed on the painted line
So as to not j-walk
Killed
The imagination's most illustrious labyrinths of creation
We traversed the two-frontiered plane
That had turned 3-D and was sprouting for a fourth way
And I could tell your face wasn't what I thought
And you could tell
My eyes weren't really blue
Hair wasn't really brown,
Not at the roots
In the recognition we learned
What we had guessed and theorized
In the afternoon light on what had been wrongly hailed to be a rainy day
Became
Theories tossed aside,
when you saw
it was the shadow who made my nose so big
It really isn't that big
You were disappointed, you like big noses,
Every time I saw you in a leopard skin suit, that wasn't you
I was looking into the mirror
And I saw my mom with your face in 1979
When you watched an opera and figured
I could be the singer, the maestro
It wasn't me, it was the singer
And the maestro
A dress for sale for fifty
I reckoned it could fit you, the girl I'd never met, it would be so nifty
And then you wore it the next day
Walking across the street from me again,
On an adjacent road to this one,
A road I'd not yet walked down
Jacaranda lining the streets, red coatings smothering your lips
Lipstick
And now I open my eyes
Even if the dress was for sale
Who you are is not, and now I know
I'll never walk that adjacent road and see the jacaranda and wearing the nifty dress for sale for fifty
It doesn't grow here, not anymore
Because I don't live in Canberra