Something stroked the inside of my leg
The moment I saw you.
The ground was rock and clay and tar
And my thighs quivered like light blue
Baby’s dress in the wind
Like Baby Janie’s in the saddle
When I rode with her before she died.
The color of grief isn’t hard to describe.
It’s a little gray a little blue a little
Purple like the sky at dusk
Sometimes red comes splotching out
Like the blood that falls out of me
Every month on a Sunday
But didn't soon after I wore
Sometimes desire is red too
But rarely is it blue
But it was when I saw you
It was when I saw you.