I was your gypsy
The one everyone knew
The boundless rogue
The patented thief
Your medicine in the night
The unholy cure
For your incurable disease
We both had our warnings
Our red danger signs
But we fell to each others beds
As if by design
Now I look in my empty suitcase
And I see that there’s not much left
The sweater of gauze
A button or two
And all the poems I never read
But where did you go
On your sleepless nights
When the Paris Theater
Was closed
Did you dance for the men
Who would hold your breath
As you slowly take off your clothes
Is there room in your life
For a gypsy
Is there room in your life
For a thief
Or will you dive headfirst
To the Columbia River
To offer your soul its relief.
But which of us
Truly knows better
The gypsy, the poet, or you
Should I ask
The fortune teller
I saw her whisper to you
Will you take your secrets
With you
Your laughter your deceit
Will I see my final disgrace
When you leave your clothes
On the street
Is there room in your life
For a gypsy
Is there room in your life
For a thief
Or will you dive headfirst
Into the Columbia River
To offer your soul its relief.
daninstockholm 