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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