Text:
Vega Suzanne Nine Objects Of Desire

One thing I know This pain will go Step through all that's left to feel Wait to meet my love, made real Don't move, don't touch Don't talk so much Strip

The ceiling had a painting on it In our room in France So we were living underneath Some angels in a dance My husband was not feeling well And so we

My favorite plum Hangs so far from me See how it sleeps And hear how it calls to me See how the flesh Presses the skin It must be bursting With secrets

"I don't care for tights", she says And does not tell me why She hikes her skirt above her knee Revealing one brown thigh "I see", I say, and wonder

He is not my friend but he is with me Like a shadow is with a foot that falls His hand is on my back when I step from the sidewalk Or when I'm walking

I only turned to see What hand had set this inner field alight Against the flame I see The outline of a man against a night Take back your sympathy

The sign said "Headshots" And that was all, A picture of a boy And a number you could call, Two eyes in the shade A mouth so sad and small, It's strange

My favorite plum hangs so far from me See how it sleeps and hear how it calls to me See how the flesh presses the skin, It must be bursting with secrets

I don't care for tights, she says and does not tell me why She hikes her skirt above her knee revealing one brown thigh I see, I say, and wonder at