Back Alley

frigid cold outside today,
like these other days that have been coming,
to this party in the ghetto.
you love that.
frigid, crisp, uninviting.

what is it she called me?
a bundle of,
a bundle of love?

well i'm a bundle of something.
frigid, crisp, cold, uninviting.
a bundle of absurdity

and i need to learn when to stop.

selfish intentions,
fleeting through my skull,
does he love you so much
he told you,
how cold i am?

Mr.Keats said,
a poet is like a chameleon,
with no colour,
but the colour of his surroundings.

i'll put that down as my problem.
i'm a bundle of something.
frigid, cold, and uninviting,
and lonely,
as far as he said, as far as she can see,

frigid, crisp, cold, lonely,
like this party in the ghetto.