Le Petit Homme

There was the everyday life
There was the hustle at the intersections
And then the people buying their newspapers
And then all those taking the subway
There was the parade on the boulevards
The chatter of the old, talkative peddler
And looking into the dirty water of the streams
The April sky that was all hunched over

There was a little man
Who walked with careful steps
He looked pretty frugal
The little man
In his old, tattered jacket
But he had a mistress
Who cost him a lot of cash
She sold him her beautiful youth
And sweet caresses
That the little man paid for upfront
There was his life on Saturday nights
There was the staircase, the hallway
There was the door at the end
And then two arms wrapped around his neck
There were flowers on the piano
There was the whiteness of the curtains
And then hours on the big blue couch
And all of that made him happy

There was the closed door
With a note slipped underneath
Pretty paper edged with roses
To say things
That you get right away
A little man who’s been abandoned
Can do nothing but walk away
Into the cold street where everything echoes
And with no one
All alone, to cry better

There was the everyday life
That kept on with its usual fanfare
There were the waltzes from the jukeboxes
That burst out as they left the bars
There was a boy singing
There was a girl laughing
And then the circle of wonderful love
And the little man
Crying in the middle