Love
is a pity you're not with me
When I look at the clock and are the four
And I just think the return and ten minutes and stretch your legs
every afternoon
And I do so with your shoulders to loosen back
And I bend the fingers and coat them lies
is a pity you're not with me
When I look at the clock and it's five
And I'm a handle that calculates interest
two hands or jump over forty
keys or an ear sounds like phone barks
Or a guy who makes them out truths numbers
is a pity you're not
me when I look at the clock and six o'clock. Could surprise
closer And tell me: "What about?" and
I would stay with the red of your lips
you with my carbon blue dye.
M. Benedetti
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