Receiving Line
Emily, more than a neighbor,
Less than love, closer to like.
Like I've said, I am completely
Over that time of life.
What our parents paid for
Our respective shoes should not mean a thing.
But with your Catholic tongue,
You could make it all come clean.
Quarantine, the still of the summer.
Your porch screen softened the light.
But chicken pox don't last forever,
And when they go we say goodbye.
In the attic empty
We are K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
But in the company of everyone else,
We are less than meant to be.
By the time reason took over,
We did not speak of that July.
And by the time you lost a mother,
I had no place in your receiving line.
I had no place in your receiving line.