...the most poetic thing I've ever heard...

 

Brave, terrible parapraxis yesterday.

It's hard to disprove.

Do you know what I mean?

It's dreadfully subjective

But it makes for fascinating controversy.

I'd like to fly this stratified psyche

Way back over to the City.

You know everything I only want to.

Everything beyond me will not ever be enough

To outlive the City because

New York City is sacred!

But I can always dream.

You read it should I give it in, say

It's great, it is, I agree, I do... or want to

But modesty dictates

Here.

I want you to say it's great, I do, of course I do

No mistake on either part

But modesty is greater.

Well, you tell me to behave:

I'm angry

Then I'm not.

Now I'm in love.

Can one be in love with a concept?

I love a concept

Big enough

For a heart ten times the size of mine

Which isn't saying much

But still. I do.

So you tell me to behave

And I still don't know what to say

I'm ecstatic

Then I'm not.

I stare you down

Across a figure eight, you listen, you laugh,

You reiterate:

Behave:

We do behave, we do

We behave

Like neuroses

In love

But that's just okay

Because neurosis

Is sacred too.

 

...I tell her she's sacred...

 

Would you bless this for me? At a touch?

And she says, you know,

You're manic, don't you? You do!

The South pole.

I knew. I'm in love at the moment, please

Don't touch it. She says you paid...

Oh yes! For analysis. But how was I to know?

I tell her she could be a neurose with me.

She says she's sorely tempted.

I say she isn't. She says I'm right.

She knows what it is she's seeing.

But she meant it the first time too, I could tell...

You're not insane.

I say, of course!

It's unprofessional.

She says she's the professional.

I say, but I can always dream, can't I?

I think she understands.

Who knows, I might be justified in this;

Heaven forbid. Oh! What is divine!

 

...bells and chimes...