A folk song/love song--written a few days after I met Jan at an anarchist conference dance on the first night of summer in 1975--about finding romantic love unexpectedly in New York City.
Love enters your life in a haphazard way
One night you're an outcast and lonely by day
The next night you make love and kiss in the hay
Your spirit is lifted from a state of decay
My pockets were empty, my plans quite confused
Your warmth made me tremble, we slept in your room.
(chorus)
Jan, with the lips so passionate
Jan, with the mind full of new twists
Jan, with the heart covered with trust
Jan, with the soft sensual touch.
You're love at a dance where I sit cynically
You're love by the sea on an old midnight ferry
You're love on a bridge as the wind softly blows
You're love when I wonder what my heart wants to know
My dreams seemed so hopeless, my life seemed bitter
You poured out some feeling, I fell for your stare. (chorus)
You're a woman who's a friend who isn't possessive
You're a woman as tasty as a delicatessen,
You're a woman I can go to when I'm feeling despondent
You're a woman who's not afraid to be independent
My books on Emma Goldman, my search for Socrates
Your ecstatic gasping moves me quite deeply. (chorus)