Mark My Words

Okay, don't mark my words. I'm unconcerned
About your attitude and your distress
At how things turned out. It's a stinking mess?
Well, that's what happened when your stomach churned
With feelings left after the bridges burned,
And, wanting more, you ended up with less.
You made her wonder, and you made her guess;
Now you complain, now that the worm has turned.

If you had listened when I tried to say
A few words, just in passing, about wax,
The price of oranges, coyote tracks,
And hopeless love (which I have put away
With other childhood fancies), you could play
That song to her, one more time, and relax.