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Ruth
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Michael Cera
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1
Coming through the filter, sweet upon my lips
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the smoke mollifies the lung into which it rips
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In a sunlit tavern, in a corner booth
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sucking stale popcorn, there I met dear Ruth
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She'd only just lost the baby, seven months and a week
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Drank a month of Seagrams, kissed me on the cheek
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Never would've been my style
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But I could spot it from a mile
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That it would mean a world of good
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If we got friendly for a while
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O what a dear my dear girl might have been
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In my nine dollar room, there was nothing on TV
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She asked if she could use my toothbrush, "It don't bother me."
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"I thank you for the company" she most solemnly said
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When I woke the next morning, she had fallen from the bed
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Quite a sight I have to say
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Where once had blossomed a bouquet
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Now all but wilting like a leaf
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In the ruthless light of day
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O what a dear my dear girl might have been
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Ruth, sweet girl, there's no place for you
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here in my little nine dollar room
Clay Pigeons
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