She walked by the shop
her shorts and knit top
pale purple and tight
and let her flips flop so I
could hear and admire
and PPM were singing on the
cracked and greasy
plastic three tube radio:
"When the rooster crows at the
break of dawn, look out your
window and I'll be gone--"
Breaking up was hard to do
and as I passed her house
one night the radio was
playing to me and an empty
seat "Stand at your window
some night, again let me see--"
and another night I saw
"Two silhouettes on the shade"
and I raised my hand and
swore, and wore the uniform
and saw other lands and
other girls and the void finally
healed. When I came home,
her freshness was gone
and so was he who took it.
To my rented room came a knock
on the door. Outside in the gloom
stood a grim painted female.
So I burst into song.
"Go 'way from my window,
leave at your own chosen speed--"
And a shrill voice cut through the
katydids, "You can close
your windows tight,
and I'll still come blowing in!"