#summer21

We'll go down to Tucson, And Tucson will have us, The dust on the streets Will awaken with your footsteps The sand between your fingers, The dryness in the air, We'll all be together When we finally make it there.

So gather your banjo, And call me "Suzanna," My friend hails from the Northeast, The banks of Susquehanna, The music is boring, Their shoes are always clean, The sun doesn't shine there, As far as I have seen.

Sometimes, the left lung, Other times, the appendix- It doesn't really matter though. Whether you like it or not, We are bound together by red string, And I am a piece of you now, Just as you are of me.

Sometimes, the life force, Other times, a pain in your side, I think I'd most like to be the liver, To help you get all the gross stuff out. I can handle it, you know I can, So leave it all to me. The heart? No, that's too far- You are your own man after all.

Well, It doesn't really matter though. I am a piece of you now, Just as you are of me. What are you? Why, the eyes, of course. I like the way you see the world, I want to view it through your tinted lens.

If you flutter, You are welcome in my home.

Leave the buzzing at the door, And step awkwardly in, Flopping around all hot and confused, This weather- Isn't it a bit much for you? What's a pretty little thing like you, Doing this far down south?

When he wakes up, And sees those things He does not like- Rather than giving up, As I do, He starts each day screaming And runs towards the wake Of the infinite future- The future where everything Is just the way he would like it.

His character is made Of the finest of stones, Strong and sturdy, Shimmering brilliantly in what little light My hand can provide.

And what am I? The pond? I am a mere imitation, A shallow reflection Of the diamonds laid out Upon his heart, And when bothered, I break into ripples, And am unable to do anything At all.