The well-dressed Lancelot
has quite a bit to say.
He’s bubbling up with joy
and the sonnet he ripped off yesterday.
He pulls me into the hall
and his opening line sounds like,
“I think you’ll like this.”
Guinevere begs him, “Stop right there.
I’ll have higher hopes than that little ant.”
She walks away from him,
humming, “You’re gonna want me for your girl.”
He should have come back faster
and he shouldn’t have touched her hand like that.
But it wasn’t like she’d ever take it back.
Lancelot, when you left
my eyes were green and wet.
You said you’d be back when
Carole King said it stopped raining
but that wasn’t quick enough.
And beneath my makeup and perfume,
Well, I think you know the rest.
Don’t you see
things aren’t how they should be, Lancelot?
We were raised in different administrations.
Star Wars and favorite sons.
To have and have not.
Pizza didn’t even cost the same.
But you pushed me into the sunlight
and I didn’t even melt.
I wanted you
but you were sold out before
I could even join you in Camelot.
You can buy her diamonds
and you can buy her every pearl.
You can buy her a ring
and all the vows that sleep around it.
But I told you that you looked like Bogie
and then you turned around and called me Bacall.
And in the marketplace, you can only say, “Oh, that Guinevere.
Hmm, I’ve met her a couple of times.”
Lancelot, when I kissed you
you murmured into my mouth.
“Don’t say your goodbyes.
You have to understand.”
And inside me there’s longing
but I think you know the rest.
Don’t you see
this isn’t how it was supposed to end, Lancelot?
Well, I’m most charming on the page
like a good writer should be.
But I’m horrid at love poems
which you’d expect out of me.
I can’t have what I want
and I can’t say I’m used to that.
Seems I can’t have anything except
my crumbling memories of you.
There’s a cavity in me
that I won’t let anybody fill
unless they answer to your name.
Now I’m stuck strumming the harp
to a much-too-rough beat.
I wish I could touch your face
and make my way into your stray heart.
Lancelot, I’d bring down an empire with you
if you’d only ask.
Lancelot, when you kissed me
I whispered into your ear.
“You’re it for me forever.
I’d leave everyone behind.”
And you’re in love with the girl you’re talking about
and I know you know the rest.
One day, you’ll see that
we fell on the cutting room floor, Lancelot.
So, my brown-eyed Lancelot
comes home from waging war.
He’s made of passion and pleasure
and his latest untitled.
He leads me to the front of the room
and locks my fingers with his
and his opening line is,
“I think you’ll like this.”
