she met him nearing easter with the
flowers coming through and
the rains start to recede
the sky to turning blue
she met him as a lover
the tinder to the spark
he met her as the latest
lonely question mark

and so he wonders how he get here
and he wonders what he’ll be
he calls it fate, he calls it destiny
take any road out and it ends the same
not strong enough to choose her he is
quinn’s old flame

he loved her in the abstract
each of her body parts
he loves her still: at night
he draws a mental chart
(and) puts the parts together
and smiling to himself
he draws her to him, he draws her to him

he wished that he was handsome
or at least well read
that his name was rock or rocky or
t-bone or red
he calls it what he wants gives it a thousand names but he’s
a born again loser he’s quinn’s old flame

he entertains a dream
of putting down some roots
in every place of business that
he’s passing through
he can’t forget what they could have been
she liked him as he came,he came as
quinn’s old flame