Valerie

By the time the paint had dried You had finished your wine You loosed your hair, mounted the chair cocked you head and said “I don’t believe I’ve ever felt the need to celebrate my form I am gangly. I am awkward. but upon your easel I am poised and graceful. I must be more alive in your mind than in mine.“ You weighed your words Yet I think I may have heard a note of disdain with pretensions towards pain But the fact still remains you know you haven’t earned it (at least not yet) In turn I learned tat there’s nothing real to learn from a girl ill disguised Wit such prepossessing lies all your life has been spent upon an endless longing for an end well I’m writing one for you So you’ve filled your time with a long line of boys Who invariably seem to fail they bat their eyes Then tuck their tails But we both know there's no such thing as regret when you’re sixteen still anxious for the next thing In nineteen ninety three I dreamed I’d never reach the precipice of arrogance youth was real Youth was everlasting Or so I believed Valerie do you believe? Too late for words Your perfection’s been disturbed By your lack of repose By your tacky looking clothes You are young, yes I know but come on...you really must be joking (or is it Halloween?) Does the smell of the paint Make you feel a little faint Does my hand on your brow Make you want to lie down Does the sound of my voice make you realize you’re only human? that you’re only around for a while? Hold still while I fasten these straps Before and after photographs Suspended animation Once again Suspended from gallery rails for you A celluloid fountain of youth Break down, break down You will never be seventeen, Valerie You will never be seventeen, Valerie You will never be seventeen, Valerie You will never be seventeen, Valerie