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Sprinkling

de Michael Cera

Coming through the filter, sweet upon my lips
The smoke mollifies the lung into which it rips
In a sunlit tavern, in a corner booth
Sucking stale popcorn, there i met dear ruth
She'd only just lost the baby, seven months and a week
Drank a month of seagrams, kissed me on the cheek

Never would've been my style
But i could spot it from a mile
That it would mean a world of good
If we got friendly for a while

Oh, what a dear
My dear girl might have been

In my nine dollar room
There was nothing on tv
She asked if she could use my toothbrush
"it don't bother me"
"i thank you for the company," she most solemnly said
When i woke the next morning
She had fallen from the bed

Quite a sight, i have to say
Where once had blossomed a bouquet
Now all but wilting like a leaf
In the ruthless light of day

Oh, what a dear
My dear girl might have been

Ruth, sweet girl
There's no place for you
Here in my little nine dollar room

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