| Instead of walking backwards
|
| Instead of lying ‘til all the blood left our heads
|
| Instead of warming to regret
|
| One night so far
|
| I slept on the floor of the van
|
| A letterhead
|
| How close were the friends you’d never see again
|
| How close had it all been happening
|
| We drove beyond the pavement
|
| We never made it to the top
|
| Walked to see the Perseides
|
| Only so many years with such an optimal
|
| Zenithal hourly rate
|
| But the clearings
|
| Southwest of Portland
|
| The northeast sky
|
| Was completely obscured by the
|
| Bright city lights
|
| We couldn’t see anything
|
| How can we by our own glow be polluted?
|
| Two days so far
|
| We met sitting in the back yard
|
| Remembering names we haven’t heard in so long
|
| Places we used to think we belonged
|
| What’s it like
|
| To see us again?
|
| To be back at your old address again
|
| Had it stayed when you had moved away?
|
| Late the next night
|
| We saw them cross the sky their last time
|
| And still the bed wasn’t made to lie within it
|
| I wasn’t home the time you came to visit
|
| And still feel like something’s missing
|
| Efforts to be more distant
|
| There were no questions that you had to ask me
|
| There were no complications as it was
|
| We started sharing less and less
|
| Adhesive releases if we pull gradually
|
| Fostered unspoken disparity
|
| Under a light it came gradually apart
|
| Giving back half what we’re given
|
| Opened the door to hear the street
|
| End where the other starts
|
| Hoping that we ever get back
|
| Even half what we’re giving |