The City of Brotherly Love
I'm packing my wallet, my keys, my watch,
the card key to my hotel,
my PDA ,
and my journal, with pen in case I get inspired on the subway.
and when I passed you on the Penn St. bridge,
I was only checking out to see if I could make out the hours for the Riverside Rink,
not thinking you would catch me.
but I guess I don't blame you,
when you looked at me as I spun awayto follow you down the stairs to Columbus,
and I guess I don't blame you
when you stopped at 3 steps
and looked at me as I passed you on the left,
my engagement ring'tinging on the rail.
I'm a guy,
so by definition I am a danger.
And you're a woman,
reading a book as you walk across the bridge,
but you're not sporting headphones,
and you're not afraid to make eye contactwith me,
some 6 foot tall,
bulging layers' long haired,
goatie sportin'200 pounds of potential menace,
a nightmare that livin' in the city
told you to be on the look out for.
I'm packing a string of words and conversations
that I want to direct at you,
for assuming the worst.
Cause I know that fear is healthy,
and fear is what keeps you safe,
but I'm still a little shook up
because I'm afraid of the me you saw.
I'd probably not want me following myself either.
It's enough to make my mind spin in all thesedifferent directions,
that it wasn't going before this night.
I'm not too sure
I want my mind to go there,
to think that in an alternate universe
instead of thinking about being mugged
I'm the mugger,
junkie, rapist assailant
who women wait for,
standing on the third step,
in the light so that I can pass and put these 36 steps between us
on a busy street at 8:30
on the day after Valentine's day
the City of Brotherly Love.
February 15, 2006