Wow, the back of your head is smooth–sloped by the barber’s razor yesterday. You told the old man you will tell your girl how you feel, how you’ve been feeling this past year, today. The back of your head is rough–when I run my hands from bottom to top. Wow, can I keep doing this? Can my fingers keep swimming through your hair? Can I keep doing this?
Today you said will tell; and the night is about to end. We are still dancing; we are longing.
You long to tell the truth; and I long to keep dancing with you.