it’s over—do tell, can’t think of a never
do well, wishing through the screen,
knowing the screen is not the answer
instead of talking to someone obscene
a new voice - a new life; new woman
that appears to roll the dice, thinking of
all that i have to offer, so what’s done
really? Look at him: he wasn’t in love
like he said that he was; maybe not quotes
the bear, stung, i wonder, on the nose?
she’s still here but no one, today, dotes,
but i can’t complain—you’ve been replaced
a woman that doesn’t rely on pipe dreams,
no, she lives, in perfect form in my mind
says my name, hears me clearly it seems
and yet our voices are kin as designed
not so impressed, anymore, by your goat
still love the way you dress, and yet,
what have you, that ship will never float
bogged down—prime suspect, living a bet
gambling on someone out of my sphere
so I turn away from the screen, Elvis, lo
I hear my love—it’s the best i can steer
toward my Elvis now telling me no
pride’s a little wounded, two-sided
politician, let’s keep it real, lucky to be
here, on His mission, what, now is dead
to me? to you? I love my family,
don’t I dear? Dear John, we live for you
thankful that you make time for us,
and I can, I do, rejected by a few,
my true love, i think, avoids—she’s famous
enough, and, now, once blind, i can see
she’ll make a wonderful president
and an even poorer friend; bitter as she
is, when thinking of Him, time spent
out of mind, i’d hope, but she’d turn you
off—she’s not the person you think she
is—composing for the camera like you do,
get the dirt, lass, off of my pants, hurry
up and find what works for you, you could
have been better, but that, now, will do,
guess we don’t talk as much as I would
but look at me, convinced, the one i rue
but typing, now, in the new woman’s voice,
the one that I have selected from them,
for all I know, at this stage, she’s a child,
I talk, then, to the address from which i stem
a place in heaven, part future part Him
I go, for my new love is my true love; can’t help it, a little, if i look for a loophole; but I know what lives on my screen—you’re not the person that you present: fooled me for a while—now I relent; faceless traveler—anonymous voice; i name you then to define your voice. Still, i wonder, what can I do—how to shut out the white noise that I rue? Chanting a voice all new to me—leaving my everyday address—approaching a year; don’t do it! And I won’t, she’s no longer hear. Dear John, i come, letter in tow; writing from the future—a future we know.
Come in—but what, darling, am i to screw? I use everybody because I can’t see You. represented, as you are, but what, lo, I’m not attracted to—can i help it, then, if I back-slide a bit? Thinking forever of women I never met—or if I did, it ended badly; not so wise, then, to seek pleasure when angry; new voice, then, represented by many;
would it be possible, then, to dream up a face? A body that my true love can replace? Don’t want to cling to the past—she thinks I’m strange in a bad way—there’s no dealing with that. She’s estranged from herself; did i get it all wrong. This woman would hurt me if I did her wrong—fine, but what, lass, if it’s an accident? Mistakes will be made, from times to time, doesn’t mean I love you any less.
Want someone nasty—you’ll have to do; can’t love someone that does something they don’t want to do. Try it—dream me up, i’m talking into the bulk. this one that was with me is the once that would ghost me; never facing up to herself, the person that, lo and behold, would lead the country—still want to believe, but you don’t love me; got through to your voice and you rejected me
Locked you out, now, with my new gal; blond as the dickens—white skin to boot: what i always wanted, right? seeing as she loves me—she writes me; she approaches perfection—she, in fact, could love me more; you’re cold as ice—don’t want any kids; you’ll say that was by choice, but really you eighty-sixed my desire; wanting to be the president—but yeah, nothing wrong with that.
Can’t love somebody, no less, that chooses not to have a child when they most certainly could; something is not right—you shouldn’t live with a man that you cannot love
So you love him—not Him, you’re on my brain. I have the right voice but not the right face; tortured by this, Dear John I insist? But I must break up with my screen. I must acknowledge that the wedding is off; I see a glimpse, see, of the men you scoff, thinking, as you do, that you’re not for me
So angry at you; can’t help it. Hear my new voice—tell me it’s you! But it’s not your voice—it’s someone on the other side of you. Who then, do you represent? This all goes to hell, I’m in love, I’m spent. Can’t get your picture out of my head. But I project my new voice, my new love, instead