streets of san remos
shes on the streets of san remos
new york and i are a day dream,
a melancholy hangover
i wrote to her, when the rain was heavy and so was my life
i wrote to her, when my ashtray was overfilled, cigarettes escaping and a bottle of cognac drained.
i said please send to me a book
of italian leather, embroidered
the inside filled with pulp fictious tales
and post mark it. i dont trust you.
she sent me a postcard saying "wish i was here"