I know the story of a boy who made you cry three times - of you and what you’re father said. I wonder when you’ll get around to taking his advice again -’cause you’ve been crying. Your hair is growing out. You dyed it brown again. Where’s your smile now? I wear you out. You wear me down again.

Oh, my love, please remember. Oh, my lover, please forget.

I have a picture of you you took of yourself the week before I met you. I wonder if you could feel the coming changes in the air - written in your smile, in the changes in your hair - orange red. How I loved you then. How I love you now.

1999