I stepped with care through the silver door
over the green apple core
and marveled at the apple peel confetti.
Looking up I saw you there,
could hardly help control my stare -
though for your beauty I was still not ready.

What's your name, girl?
Please tell me what's your name?
Don't tell me it's not important,
That you're not that important.
Just tell me, girl, what's your name?

Huddled over in your seat,
with your hair in a bun and crocs on your feet
your face was hidden deep inside your bosom.
You poured some liquid in your hand
and rubbed it on your canvas bag,
then showed your face, you looked a lot like Golum.

You were dressed in black from head to foot,
with matching ankles covered in soot,
and peering about with tired frightened eyes.
you smeared some liquid on the floor
then on the wall you rubbed some more.
Your heart could never be so sanitized.

Where were you from and where were you going?
I wished that I could know your story,
but the least and most that I could do was pray.
So sitting across from you on the train,
I hoped that you would say your name
When I asked you to tell me...

What's your name, girl?
Please tell me what's your name?
Don't tell me it's not important,
That you're not that important.
Just tell me, girl, what's your name?

As we made local stops uptown,
I started writing all this down.
I wouldn't let this mem'ry fade away.
You pulled a harmonica from your bag,
pressed it to your lips and took a drag -
amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saves.

With a desperate petition you addressed the crowd,
"Donation 'preciated," you whispered it loud,
and none but me bothered to look your way.

I took out a dollar to make a donation.
You gave me your thanks, and I said "your welcome,
I really enjoyed the songs that you just played."
But it was nearly time to get off the train,
so that's when I dared to ask your name;
but you'd never dare to tell me...

What's your name, girl?
Please tell me what's your name?
Don't tell me it's not important,
That you're not that important.
Just tell me, girl, what's your name?

You looked at me with a weary suspicion,
"My name doesn't matter, I'm not that important,"
My heart raged against these lies you'd come to believe.
I extended my hand, which you shook reluctant,
another attempt at an introduction
"so I can say hello when again we meet."

"With millions of people in the city," you said,
"the chances are small we'll meet again.
But it was a pleasure meeting you today."
Confident, I stepped off the train.
When I see you again, I'll ask your name.
Then I know I'll finally learn...

By: Gio Andollo
 



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