For many, endless minutes
She crouched on the brown rug.
Standing on her fingers
   So she wouldn't run
Standing on her fingers
   So she wouldn't run.

Her eyes screwed tight
On the ceiling fan
Scratched record slipping
   "Who's that man?"
Scratched record slipping
   "Who's that man?"

While you tore the house down
Around her head
Then you both got up
   And went back to bed
Then you both got up
   And went back to bed.