From inside the curtained the room
A voice asks, "Are you there?
My darling do I look alright?
I've only one last thing to try"
From the curb to cafe, coats in rows
Royal seals in dressed up windows
The early evening sign lights
Up on High St. West, pedestrianized

From the Clockhouse to department store
You search the aisles and pace the floor
With boy in tow, outside he's cold but over-wrapped indoors

Could anyone have been more bored
And recognized the girl you were?
To those who saw fiesta drives and made-up eyes
And the number that you wore
At the school they wished to be like you
On the famous streets, New York and Rome
And beaches far away
From Underhill and Woodland roads