What Do You Want?

What do you want?  Write it down on a secret piece of
paper and give it to the lady in a pink dress.

So I wrote it down I want the LADY IN A PINK DRESS
and the ocean licked my face like a loyal dog.

What do you want out of life?
I want a broken mirror to look at so that I can
look at pieces of myself and try to put them together.

What do you want from me?
I'm a college graduate but a job is the last thing I want.

I need a parachute and socks, I need a telephone
and I need some peace and quiet,
I need YOU some of the time but you never
drop by,
and sometimes I want to jump off a cliff,
I want paintings of Cézanne, Gauguin and Van Gogh
in my living room
and I want a black scarf around my neck,
I need some cognac,
I need some quiet music,
I'm tired of all the commercial crap that we listen to
every day,
God, I want flowers, lots of flowers
and I want to see a smile on your face, darling,
I want some beauty for once,
I want some poetry,
and I want to look at the stars
and the lake and the trees
and the grass—
and I want it to be a poem with you in it,
no more bureaucrats to tell us what to do,
I want some antique furniture and a cat
with green eyes,
I want to jump out of this place like
an innocent grasshopper—
I committed no crime and I don't want
to pay the rent,
I don't want psychotherapy
and I don't want to look in your eyes,
telling me to be responsible—
I AM RESPONSIBLE,
that's why I drink beer,
and that's why I'm in love with the lady in pink,
I'm hopeless, I know
but deep inside I'm longing
to be a lilac,
but you'll look at me something like
you're psychotic,
when all I really want is your kiss!
 

                                     January 5, 1988
                                 --Alexander Shaumyan