Heliotrope - 02:43
							
You take the booth, I take the chair,
You hate the draft, I like the air.
You read the specials, skip a page,
I watch your finger, do the same.
I know your order, know the drill,
No ice, no lime, split half the bill.
You ask me what  I'm  thinking  of—
I  say, “That  looks  good,” 
and  call  it  love.

You  say, “You  sure?”
I  say, “Of  course.”
You  couldn't  hear
My  second  choice.

Whatever  you  want,
I've  got  it  down.
I  say  it  so  much
I  leave  myself  out.
You  ask  what  I  like—
I  look  at  your  mouth.
Whatever  you  want.
What  do  I  want  now?

You  put  my  old  songs  on  one  night,
I  reached  to  skip; you  asked  me  why.
I  said, “You  hate  this  kind  of  stuff.”
You  said, “I  never  said  that  once.”
I  laughed  too  quick, then  missed  my  cue,
The  second  verse  went  on  without  you.
I  used  to  know  it  front  to  back.
You  took  my  hand.  I  let  it  play.

You  let  it  end,
Then  asked  for  more.
I  hadn't  played  it
Since  last  fall.

Whatever  you  want,
I've  got  it  down.
I  say  it  so  much
I  leave  myself  out.
You  ask  what  I  like—
I  look  at  your  mouth.
Whatever  you  want.
What  do  I  want  now?

Back  at  the  booth,
You  close  your  menu.
“Same  as  before?”
I  almost  say, “You  choose.”
Then, “Something  spicy.
The  one  on  the  right.”
You  slide  me  the  water.
I  take  the  first  bite.

Whatever  you  want,
I'll  hear  you  out.
Here's  what  I  want—
I'm  saying  it  now.
You  steal  a  small  bite,
Then  reach  for  my  glass.
I  laugh  till  it  hurts.
You  give  the  plate  back.

Whatever  you  want.
Here's  what  I  want, too.

 * somi