I’m going to be honest, here’s a picture:

Sitting in class, I see this stranger girl-

and she’s moving to the rhythm of my music

that I always listen to in the life

of the morning before it gets time to do school work

and on the way back home late at night

(I always find myself awake at night

and I want to take a picture,

but smiling is just too much work

just because some girl

that was mine in a past life

thought of me while listening to music,

so instead, I listen to music

in the morning and throughout the night-

but don’t think I don’t have a life,

I love to take pictures

or spend some time with a girl

or meet up with my friends after I work)

which makes me want to take a picture

of this random stranger girl –

Irony strikes most often in the form of music:

it’s just something you’ll learn in life

like when you’re hard at work,

sipping at a mug of green tea at night

finishing up some last-minute work,

so you play some good music

and your friend mentions your ex-girl

friend he met the other night

who gave you pictures

when she was yours in a past life –

but then again, c’est la vie,

that’s how a poet does his work

since with no camera, there’s no picture

and all I can do is go with the music,

dance till late at night

in honor of the stranger girl

and every other nameless girl

who I’ll never know in life

and never lose a night

of sleep over, who I’ll only see at work

and never hear their music

or capture their essence into a picture.

Girls are everywhere and it doesn’t work;

my life continues to only my ironic music

nights spend not smiling for a picture.