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Click hereI can't really tell you about Courtney,
not the whole story:
somehow it wouldn't do
yet neither would saying nothing
She was a pretty Jewish girl
who loved clothes, make-up, and jewelry
The first time we talked was so pleasant:
we walked about in the garden,
Venus was bright in the sky
and I taught her how to tell
the difference between a star and a planet
Her hair wasn't really blonde
but she could sell it:
she could sell me most anything
any madness any dream,
because she was a dream-believer
and I wanted to believe in dreams again
(they were pleasant dreams)
Later, sleepless and suffering
in the throes of her mania,
I wished to the devil I'd never met her
and then being rid of her,
couldn't help
but wonder if things might have been different
to sob that I couldn't hold her
I hope she's back at the nice condo her parents keep for her
and not in some sterile psych ward:
but I'm like a moon to her Venus
and I don't dare find out
and I wanted to believe in dreams again
(they were pleasant dreams)
The parenthetical language here is well done.