Three Songs
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Learning to Unlove You

Learning to unlove you will take a little time
But now I’ve got forever that’s OK
To take you off the books
Untangle all the hooks
I’m looking forward to it in a way

Getting to forget you will be like tearing down
The palace of your beauty in my mind
Take one last look around
Then burn it to the ground
Unloving you will take a little time

To treat you like a fever
Like my known enemy
To be a nonbeliever
In my own memory

I wake up in the morning no more than half awake
A headful of ideas in my mind
A host of things unsaid
And strangers in my bed
Unloving you will take a little time…

 

Complicated Man

They said, why did you make a pile of money
And blow it all, five hundred thousand grand
Was that your way of trying to be funny
I said: well, I’m a complicated man

They said, why did you write the breakout single
Then just when they got big you quit the band
To write a string of advertising jingles
I said: well, I’m a complicated man

They said, so when you found your perfect lover
And when your life was finally going to plan
Why did you turn your back and run for cover
I said: well, I’m a complicated man…

 

He’s not me

You talk about your new man like honey from the bee
But he’s no superhuman and he’s not me
He drives a black Mercedes and he plays a mean piano
A way with all the ladies and a punch like Marciano
He’s got a lot – so what, if he’s not me?

He’s sweeter than the cherries that blossom on the tree
He tastes like wild berries but he’s not me
He’s worth half a million, gambles with the biggest chips
He burned the towers of Ilium and he launched a thousand ships
He’s got a lot – so what, if he’s not me?

A ninety-eight-foot yacht, he’s got a sixty-inch TV
I know what’s what and what he’s not and what he’s not is me
And when he finds your honey pot he’ll be a busy bee
But till you give him all you’ve got then all you’ve got is me

He’s full of sound and fury and stories of the sea
The power and the glory, but he’s not me
He crossed the Arctic tundra and he sailed the wide Atlantic
A voice like molten thunder only slightly more romantic
And once he’s got you under him he might try something tantric
He’s hot, but what’s he got if he’s not me?


'Arete is a journal as exquisite in its execution as in its intentions.'
John Updike

'Vous m’avez donné un grand plaisir … votre revue m’est très sympathique et proche.'
Milan Kundera