Revisionist Poetry – “I Love my Baby, My Baby Don’t Love Me… R. Johnson”, v.3 (blues feel)

I love my baby — I love her like a lamp burns late,
but she don’t light for me.

We sit and stare for hours; the radio plays low,
her coffee cools in the saucer, untouched.
We walk miles past houses with their porch lights on,
her hand in mine — a cool, polite weight.

She speaks of summers that held her like a map;
her eyes keep folding toward yesterday.
My heart makes maps of tomorrow — roads she won’t walk.

We sleep under the same thin blanket,
and I count the cold that settles by my shoulder.
I love my baby — the line goes into the night,
but she don’t love me back; the lamp keeps burning blue.