Listen all your lovers and would-be lovers to my talenThe moral of the story is not hiddennThough there are some lies along the way to disguise the detailsnThe broad stroke of this picture shall render its true meaningnI first collided with Geraldine on a Tuesday I believenIt was so very long ago still I remembernShe just drifted by my window while I was pretending to be menNot yet realizing I was already forever changed by seeing hernnInto the cafe on the street where the faux French girls fake their slangnWhile trying to sink their teeth into each othernAnd all of them so dainty they must fan themselves all daynClaiming the breath of the walking deathly homesick G.I. sufferersnnGeraldine sat alone of course nobody knew her namenBut I watched her from a field of wallflowersnI can't remember why I ever started hanging around that placenAll anybody ever did was dream of dreary CaliforniannThe second time I saw Geraldine she asked me for a lightnShe was trying to read a map in a shattered doorwaynI asked where she was running to or from or was it whonShe asked if I was talking back or moving forwardnnSoon we were doing everything we could do to fall in lovenWe tumbled from the trees into the waternFor awhile we were as close as the light-bulb and the mothnBouncing off a wall as it grew hotter and hotternnBut one day I was tempted by a fleeting song I heardnWhispered from the mouth of a passing strangernWho said everything happens for a reason and I deferrednNot yet realizing I was already very much in dangernnThe walls were yellow and thin and there was no window I could opennAnd she just laughed into her pillow until she criednAnd because it was a loathsome thing I did it once againnWith a mirth that was disposable and a lament I couldn't hidennWhen the stranger disappeared I couldn't stomach my facenWhat will I do now that I have betrayed GeraldinenI cowered through the market and purchased every angry grapenAnd made a wine so bitter even the drunkards appeared cleannnI woke up on a Sunday and Geraldine was boiling milknYou've been far away, she said as if convincing menI am further still, I said, than you may really want to knownShe raised a finger to her lips to say I should be listeningnnI've been where you stand, she said, once I was woeful and carelessnBut I believe everything happens for a reason.nWell there it is again, I thought, and ready to confessnBut she said Only the guilty are ever really innocent.