Ana
Ng .. Make a hole with
a gun perpendicular To the name of
this town in a desk-top globe Exit wound in
a foreign nation Showing the home
of the one this was written for My apartment looks
upside down from there Water spirals
the wrong way out the sink And her voice
is a backwards record It's like a whirlpool,
and it never ends Ana Ng and I are
getting old And we still haven't
walked in the glow of each other's majestic presence Listen Ana hear
my words They're the ones
you would think I would say if there was a me for you All alone at the
'64 World's Fair Eighty dolls yelling
"Small girl after all" Who was at the
Dupont Pavilion? Why was the bench
still warm? Who had been there? Or the time when
the storm tangled up the wire To the horn on
the pole at the bus deopt And in the back
of the edge of hearing These are the
words the voice was repeating: Ana Ng and I are
getting old And we still haven't
walked in the glow of each other's majestic presence Listen Ana hear
my words They're the ones
you would think I would say if there was a me for you When I was driving
once I saw this painted on a bridge: "I don't want
the world, I just want your half" They don't need
me here, and I know you're there Where the world
goes by like the humid air And it sticks
like a broken record Everything sticks
like a broken record Everything sticks
until it goes away And the truth
is, we don't know anything Ana Ng and I are
getting old And we still haven't
walked in the glow of each other's majestic presence Listen Ana hear
my words They're the ones
you would think I would say if there was a me for you
