ABSTRACT
(written in Bradley‘s, Greenwich Village, with Rodrigo, improbably, on the juke box)* Lack of you turns from numbness to despair Neither guitars nor beer can ease the pain With blatant sentiment that seems unfair Rodrigo tears the guts from me again Every female movement that’s not yours now tortures me because I know I need that warmth that sensuous blindness all that draws my hungry mouth to fasten and to feed My flesh irradiates the droning bar until it drowns the gestures and the eyes and old Rodrigo and the sad guitar become mere adjuncts to my body’s cries I stop my ears against these carnal moans and long for Satie’s disembodied tones
