Will you ever be nearer to me
Than you are with your wistful violin?
How else could you ever dare?
How else could I ever bare?
How else could this be?
Do not act as if it is only I who deceive.
It is only music after all
Played better by hands less grimely-worn than yours
Yet to rest a finger upon the violin’s rest….
Am I as agitating as the poverty that demeans you before me?
Do you ever hope that the thrown coins
fall from a closely distance?
that my smile is not only for your tune?
I know you play “Ave Maria”
Only for me
Do you ever escape into an imagined embrace
Of course you would
For I should never admit
That I do.