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Thursday, October 25, 2012

Another Woman

Doggerel Dept.: Here's a piece revealed in a recent spate of archive-combing, and I have no recollection of its provenance. But it's embarrassingly reminscent of Noël Coward at his most precious, which can be very precious indeed.


THEN I MEET another woman,
And she smiles with her eyes;
She is beautiful, well-spoken,
And my heart will soon be broken,
For attraction always dies.

Then I ask her out to dinner,
And she asks about my wife;
And her smile's turning brittle,
Though I tell her there’s a little
Room for others in my life.

Though I think that I could love her,
It’s a fantasy that ends.
It’s a ride I’ve often ridden,
Though the highs and lows are hidden
By the easy love of friends.

When we talk, we speak with feeling;
Voices passionate and pure;
But I’m thinking now, “If only ... ”
And I’m helpless and I’m lonely,
And she holds the only cure.

Should I risk the violation?
Should I tell her how I feel?
Will she flinch as if I hit her?
Will betrayal turn her bitter?
Do the wounded ever heal?

Could she share a moment with me?
Offer solace with her hand?
Something gentle as a heartbeat,
As two hearts that beat apart beat,
That my wife would understand ...

But I never ask the question,
For attraction always dies.
And tomorrow it’s repeating:
There’s a woman I’ll be meeting,
And she’ll smile with her eyes.

– April 13, 1990

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