when she said,
"don’t waste your words, they’re just lies,"
i cried she was deaf.
and she worked on my face until breaking my eyes,
then said, "what else you got left?"
it was then that i got up to leave
but she said, "don’t forget,
everybody must give something back
for something they get."

i stood there and hummed,
i tapped on her drum and asked her how come.
and she buttoned her boot,
and straightened her suit,
then she said, "don’t get cute."
so i forced my hands in my pockets
and felt with my thumbs,
and gallantly handed her
my very last piece of gum.

she threw me outside,
i stood in the dirt where ev’ryone walked.
and after finding i’d
forgotten my shirt,
i went back and knocked.
i waited in the hallway, she went to get it,
and i tried to make sense
out of that picture of you in your wheelchair
that leaned up against . . .

her jamaican rum
and when she did come, i asked her for some.
she said, "no, dear."
i said, "your words aren’t clear,
you’d better spit out your gum."
she screamed till her face got so red
then she fell on the floor,
and i covered her up and then
thought i’d go look through her drawer.

and, when i was through
i filled up my shoe
and brought it to you.
and you, you took me in,
you loved me then
you didn’t waste time.
and i, i never took much,
i never asked for your crutch.
now don’t ask for mine.