COLD BED

Look at me with that look
in your eyes when you opened your door
the second time we saw each other,
a time you said would never happen.

     C'mon look at me
     and take me back to that mystery.

Your feet are cold now
like on the night the blizzard outside the karaoke bar
wouldn't quit, no cab came,
and we danced through it all on blue feet.

     Your feet are cold, we'll make them hot,
     our contact heat; won't take a lot.
     C'mon lo at me
     and take me back to that mystery.

Remember when the bangers pulled the guns
and you stepped in front of them and me.
They left shamed and 
we made love on the stairs in that alley
right then and there in the rain.

        C'mon here and touch me again.
        Roll over here and keep the nightmares away.
        Your feet are cold, we'll make them hot, 
        our contact heat; won't take a lot.
        C'mon again and look at me
        and take be back to the mystery.

C'mon Cherokee baby, c'mon
you haven't been dead that long.

                                          (formerly titled:    Private Eulogy)

Steve Ivanovics
February 1996