Well I'll be damned.
Here comes your ghost again.
But that's not unusual;
It's just that the moon is full,
And you happened to call.
And here I sit,
Hand on the telephone,
Hearing a voice I'd known,
A couple of lights years ago,
Heading straight for a fall.
As I remember,
Your eyes were bluer than robin's eggs.
My poetry was lousy, you said.
"Where are you calling from?"
"A booth in the Midwest."
Ten years ago,
I bought you some cuff links.
You brought me something.
We both know what memories can bring;
They bring diamonds and rust.
Well, you burst on the scene,
Already a legend,
The unwashed phenomenon,
The original vagabond,
You strayed into my arms.
And there you stayed,
Temporarily lost at sea.
The madonna was yours for free,
Yes, the girl on the half-shell,
Could keep you unharmed.
Now I see you standing with brown leaves falling all around,
And snow in your hair.
Now you're smiling out the window of that crummy hotel,
Over Washington Square.
Our breath comes out white clouds, mingles and hangs,
In the air.
Speaking strictly for me, we both could have died,
Then and there.
Now you're telling me,
You're not nostalgic.
Then give me another word for it --
You who're so good with words,
And at keeping things vague.
'Cause I need some of that vagueness now,
It's all come back too clearly.
Yes, I loved you dearly,
And if you're offering me diamonds and rust,
I've already paid.