flowers bloom, wither,
yet there is a bud anew,

youth once lost is regret,
wrinkled, folded, askew

I want you to point at me and tell me that I'm the one you'll love forever and ever. I need you to kiss my lips and tell me how wonderful you think I am because after months of working on myself, I still won't believe it.

I want to tell you that you're the only boy that's been running through my mind since I've been across the country. I want you to wait for me, I want you to tell everyone that you have a girl waiting for you in a sunny state, a few thousand miles away. I adore you.
I love your laugh, your look, your glare, your anger, your body, your salt, your sweet, your kind, your fear, I can look at you from any angle, love. I swear it.

Where coal gets pressed
And zippers - undressed
A diamond of red night's gleaming
How souls get stressed
To act chipper at best
But inside - a cauldron that's steaming
A raven has landed and soon will be near
Through mentality's bland, white sun
When the moon opens wide
And swallows the shadows
That's when they'll have the most fun

No more bloodbaths
Let's just make love in the bath

Thomas, Tommy baby,
you are both hot,
and sweet.

Tom Cat you’re red hot--
when I catch you in your Tom Cat Strut,
sauntering across campus,
strolling like it ain’t no thing,

cuz it don’t meant a thing
if it ain’t got that swing baby.

So dig this, Tommy Gun,
you groove with the best of ‘em
when I spot you strollin’—

Your head, teetering left and right like a seesaw, boppin’ baby,
arms hangin’ loosely, swinging freely, wildly, go! go!
legs scooping forward in boisterous trombone slides--
Groooooove Tommy baby!

You’re Louis’s best blows--
ten feet from the mic and the Fives baby,
you’re hot, red hot,
any closer and I'll burn up!
Go!

But you’re cool, real cool,
and oh so sweet.
Super sweet--

in your beard like a pepper and salt shaker tossed across the table,
I look to see those rosy lips part,
and peep those pearly whites shinin' like the bell of Louis’s cornet
brandished in the air, under those ballroom lights--
you’re screamin’ Tommy!

Let me hear that laugh that shakes the room,
punches like Blakey’s bass drum,
thumps like Mingus--

T-Bird you’ve got that hard bop in your soul,
you’re gonna bop to the top TB,
into the third heaven where the angels fall in line to your swing,
that incessant strut that keeps the devil at bay,
Blow! Blow! Blow!

And I see you now Tom Cat,
up there in the clouds,
digging your way across eternity,
bopping and jiving, swinging and blowing,

in your faded khaki pants and worn tennis shoes,
loosely buttoned collared shirt,
tight rectangular glasses that glistened the bell of your eyes even more--
I gotta stand twenty feet away Tommy baby!

You glance down at me and wink,
rearing your head back to let loose that Mingus and Blakey
bottom-end laugh,
guffaw guffaw guffaw!!!

--so hearty and rich,
the backbone of every nervous first-year classroom,
and the sniggering seniors you continued to befuddle and dazzle
with your mysterious ways
and insatiable swing.

So blow, Tommy Gun, blow!
Go Tom Cat go!
Dig T-Bird dig!
Let loose Tommy boy!

Swing for us, swing swing swing--
Hot and Sweet, Tommy baby,
hot and sweet.

And this is what I'd say to the next girl:

Don't get close enough for him to tell you you're worth something.

Because at some point, the roles will be reversed
And you'll be left wondering what he's worth

And the only message you'll hear is silence.

But maybe this is a lesson in how not to hate someone who doesn't hate you, doesn't love you, doesn't care.

Because this is what he's taught you: that you are only worth his time under certain parameters.