The Elephant Comes Unbidden

Well they all said Louise was not half bad

It was written on the walls and window shades

And how she’d act the little girl

A deceiver, don’t believe her that’s her trade

I’ve often heard people say, “She’s not that kind of girl.”

Even women might say, “I’m not that kind of girl” themselves. 

When I first came back into the world I was brand new.

I was 19 and alone, and met people at bars.

I worked hard during the week, saving the bars for Friday and Saturday nights.

I met men and went home with them.

Isn’t *that* how you get to know someone?

Sometimes a bottle of perfume,

Flowers and maybe some lace

Men brought Louise ten cent trinkets

Their intentions were easily traced

 After my divorce, I met men on dating sites.

We arranged meets at coffee shops or parks.

I did go to dinner with a potential man twice.

It felt wrong somehow, awkward.

I picked the least expensive item on the menu both times.

I didn’t feel right about him wasting money on me.

Well everybody thought it kind of sad

When they found Louise in her room

They’d always put her down below their kind

Still some cried when she died this afternoon

These days I get to know people in writing.

It’s my preferred method of communication.

I can almost fall in love with someone’s writing in a way.

I put off seeing his picture, it’s not necessary.

I prefer to picture him through his words.

Louise rode home on the mail train

Somewhere to the south I heard it said

Too bad it ended so ugly,

Too bad she had to go this way

But I still have urges for physical contact.

I still pick up men for one-night stands occasionally.

It’s just sex. I never placed all that much importance on it.

It doesn’t matter until it does.

I guess I *am* that kind of girl.

I’ve always been that kind of girl. 

Ah but the wind is blowing cold tonight

So good night Louise, good night