I want you to come now! I want you to come now at the latest! Bring your pocket calculator. And the grand piano. Bring band-aids aspirin eau de cologne and antiseptic soap a bottle of seltzer a bottle of gin a bottle of whisky and toothbrush mug a bottle of Ajax and a large pack of sleeping pills a houseplant a pizza and a respirator. I want you to come now! Only you should come now at the very latest! And take me by storm. Turn out the lights. And light the candelabras. You should unplug the telephone jack. And blow up the air mattresses. You should dry my tears and talk some sense to me. When the sun goes down behind the Opera House. And it’s time to go home. Then you should come to me. With your heart. And your shotgun. So I’ll never lose my temper again. In a tastefully furnished living room. So I’ll never stand on the window ledge again. Looking a little stupid. With a dog rose in my hand. So I’ll never creep through the subways again with an embarrassing song. On my broken lips. You have to come now, now at the very latest! Simply because I can’t stand it otherwise. Simply because it’s so damn persistent. Simply because I’m a totally ordinary woman. Completely healthy and moderately overweight. Somewhat domestic, helpful and nervous. Kind and sweet and very scared. With general interests and an untapped literary vein.