Deferred

This year, maybe, do you think I can graduate?
I’m already two years late.
Dropped out six months when I was seven,
a year when I was eleven,
then got put back when we come North.
To get through high at twenty’s kind of late—
But maybe this year I can graduate.

Maybe now I can have that white enamel stove
I dreamed about when we first fell in love
eighteen years ago,
But you know,
rooming and everything
then kids,
cold-water flat and all that.
But now my daughter’s married
And my boy’s inost grown—
quit school to work—
and where we’re moving
there ain’t no stove—
Maybe I can buy that white enamel stove!

Me, I always did want to study French.
It don’t make sense—
I’ll never go to France,
but night schools teach French.
Now at last I’ve got a job
where I get off at five,
in time to wash and dress,
so, s’il vous plaît, I’ll study French!

Someday,
I’m gonna buy two new suits
at once!

All I want is
one more bottle of gin.

All I want is to see
my furniture paid for.

All I want is a wife who will
work with me and not against me. Say,
baby, could you see your way clear?

Heaven, heaven, is my home!
This world I’ll leave behind
When I set my feet in glory
I’ll have a throne for mine!

I want to pass the civil service.

I want a television set.

You know, as old as I am,
I ain’t never
owned a decent radio yet?

I’d like to take up Bach.

Montage
of a dream
deferred.

Buddy, have you heard?