After the cinema.

After the cinema,
all the linoleum was broken.
How did we get past this?
We didn’t.
But we kept walking.
This is how the song begins:
The pieces of what.
Pieces of what?
Doesn’t matter anymore;
After the cinema,
every daughter cries.
It is, after all, her prerogative.
You do not know how it came together,
but together it came. This is eventually
how you will see that it is worth something.
If it wasn’t, we won’t have to any longer look
at one another.

reprise oven etc

all my life
i've been waiting
for an oven

to cook or not to
...cook, that is the suggestion
of your unlit thighs
hidden behind
so many layers of Bundt cake

listen: i know
about what
i am talking