Written October 1996


Elizabeth under the Mellon Bank sign
waiting for a bus that’s never on time
she’s wondering, why aren’t the cameras rolling
anytime she starts to shine?
Elizabeth under a Pittsburgh partly cloudy sky today,
maybe it’ll rain
considering if she could join the ranks of
+++ all of those mysterious, beautiful people
+++ all of those mysterious, beautiful
+++ all of those mysterious… Elizabeth…

Elizabeth freezes her poetry behind the phylo dough
where nobody’ll know
considering if she should thaw it out in a couple years or so
and scribbling into her notebook all the people as they go
the hurried and the slow
wondering how she should answer if that
+++ sharp young man in well-cut jeans
+++ should stop to ask the time
+++ if he turned to her expectantly awaiting a reply
+++ would she tell him “10 past 3”
+++ or would she look him in the eye, and say
+++++ “today’s tomorrow’s yesterday, and yesterday’s tomorrow,”
+++++ and she’d smile like she was
+++ one of those mysterious, beautiful people
+++ one of those mysterious, beautiful
+++ one of those mysterious… Elizabeth…

can anybody tell she’s still in high school?
would anybody guess she’s got a curfew?
today’s tomorrow’s yesterday, and yesterday’s tomorrow…

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