I'LL BE YOUR NEW YORK
In your checkered shirt with your long black
hair you looked just like Jean-Pierre Leaud
with Paul Newman's eyes I could have met
in East London
The only thing I've ever really desired is to
be permanently fascinated
I don't own myself anymore
You grow like algae in my
blood, I smell like algae
I can't go to bed with anyone else
memories of traces of saliva
People like you and me end up the same
height when they make love
soft and white like a girl
I don't care about film festivals
When you're stroked, you just stroke back, it's normal
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