Slip my hand between my eyes as you and I drink chai.
This is the night before the morning before the noon we say goodbye.
Dance the cup around my lips, and take another sip,
and I feel all your bitter tearlessness like needles on my hip.

But you’re not really here.
You’re not really, really here.
You’re not really here at all.

Sitting on my front porch on a ruddy afternoon,
I’d cleaned the peppers, peeled bananas, and watched apples ripen all too soon.
Eyeing closely cars that pass, though you must be at Mass,
praying the Jesus Prayer, with colored hair, and blubbering the words too fast.

No, they didn’t know then.
No, they didn’t know then.
Though they didn’t know, I was watching.
Night’s dim, and the candle’s out.
I have to find something new.
Yes, I’ve got to find it now,
Just to escape the dream of you.

Driving, and the pavement’s black. My shoes are in your lap,
And I’m not talking, you’re not talking, drifting in and out of naps.
Red lights stutter, I roll down my window. You’re a prince
because you left for other countries, and I haven’t seen you since.

You were never there.
You were never, never there.
You are never anywhere.