Written  down  here,gentle  reader
It  seems  too  good  to  be  true
But  there ’s  a  girl  in  Kansas  City
With  my  favourite  tattoo
Oh  why  would  I  lie  to  you?
This  was  in  another  century
Somewhere  near  the  summer ’s  end
The  fahrenheit  was  frightening
I  was  awake  the  whole  weekend
Invited  to  a  barbecue
I  found  refuge  in  the  kitchen
Discussing  post-war  US  literature
With  a  girl  whose  upper  arm  read “fiction ”
Like  it  might  have  been  typewritten
I  asked  her  its  significance
She  said  she  sometimes  took  reminding
What  she  wanted  to  be  doing
Whether  reading  it  or  writing
I  admitted  admiration
For  both  typeface  and  intent
And  said  more  softly —sotto  voce —
I  knew  too  well  what  she  meant
She  just  smiled
And  in  a  while  she  went
For  a  time  I  forgot  this  ever  took  place
She  left  her  bottle  on  the  bookcase
So  though  I  leave  you  little  option
But  to  take  me  at  my  word
I  assure  you,dearest  listener
That  it  happened  as  you ’ve  heard
A  beer  left  on  a  bookshelf
At  a  bygone  barbecue
By  a  girl  from  Kansas  City
With  my  favourite  tattoo
Oh  why  would  I  lie  to  you?
Oh  why  would  I  lie  to  you?
Oh  why  would  I  lie?