We looked toward the woman
And my face burned red, blushing
When she asked me the questions
Are you ever alone?
Are you younger or older?

I held her close
In my thoughts some way wanting
In spite of the sorrow
My tensing in terror

On the strip of Ventura
With the tin barrels burning under a halo of moonlight
When the hour was lonely
It was the way that she touched me
Her arm on the window

And the way she said: Baby
And the way she said: Baby