The Fairest of Them All

The Beatles sing the truth
My hand wants to be held by you
The soda fountain springs hold youth
And I share shakes with you
While the sun’s shining
With my cheeks burning
With the best part of embarrassment
And modesty’s true flush
I want my head to rest softly against
A welcome outdoor park bench shoulder
And erase the existence of
TV-flash splashed indoor couches
It’s just the moments when fast music slows
And the crowd thins into twos
And there’s no more room for MJ moves.
Sprigs of baby’s breath flowers whisper something sweet
I don’t know what they’re saying.
Locks of hair hide half faces
You don’t know what we’re seeing
And while Geppetto carved Pinocchio hoping to make him real
We’re painting toes and lips and and hands and putting on pointy heels hoping our hearts too will beat

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