I really wanna be just like a clam.
But not in that I’d live beneath the sea —
Mouth closed shut, speechless as I usu’ly am —
The sea is far too deep and frightens me.
I also don’t wanna be picked apart,
Eaten, by hungry tourists on the shore,
With each one digging out my mussl’d heart —
My body an image of salty gore.
I don’t want to be a clam in those ways —
I wanna hold on tight to something beau-
-tiful. Something special for all my days.
Something…well, something a whole lot like you.
My bivalve arms tight around you, my pearl,
The patterns of us an eternal swirl.