to a musician as she plays
and I begrudgingly fall in love with her.
but I don't want to fall in love with her,
not because she isn't great,
because I don't want to fall in love with anyone these days.
I know what yesterday will bring,
as tomorrow amused us already,
and I was a tender object living in her house.
writing forever only Sylvia,
she sings the song of myself,
it's almost always never.