Written down here, gentle reader It seems too good to be true But there’s a girl in Kansas City With my favourite tattoo Oh why would I lie to you?
This was in another century Somewhere near the summer’s end The fahrenheit was frightening I was awake the whole weekend Invited to a barbecue I found refuge in the kitchen Discussing post-war US literature With a girl whose upper arm read “fiction” Like it might have been typewritten
I asked her its significance She said she sometimes took reminding What she wanted to be doing Whether reading it or writing I admitted admiration For both typeface and intent And said more softly — sotto voce — I knew too well what she meant She just smiled And in a while she went
For a time I forgot this ever took place She left her bottle on the bookcase
So though I leave you little option But to take me at my word I assure you, dearest listener That it happened as you’ve heard A beer left on a bookshelf At a bygone barbecue By a girl from Kansas City With my favourite tattoo Oh why would I lie to you? Oh why would I lie to you? Oh why would I lie?
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