inadequate and plain
I contemplated writing you a song
because I liked to sing when I am
riding my bike and sometimes
when I’m riding my bike, I think of
you, because it’s a good time for thinking.
But I’m getting real hesitant about this
writing songs for people crap (writing poems
for people, writing letters to people – maybe
it’s just people) because later on I think that it’s
unlikely that they’ll write one back.
Yet, all the same, you might as well know I
wanted to, write it, that is – this folky, plinky
tuneless thing, the chorus of which let you know:
that I liked all the pretty things inside your heart
even if none of them were me.