May 05, 2004 01:05
Whenever I come back,
the air on the railroad is making the same sounds.
And the shop fronts on Holly
are dirty words (asterisks in for the vowels)
and we peered through the windows:
New bottoms on barstools, the people remain the same,
with prices inflating.
As if saved from the gallows,
there's a bellow of buzzers and people stop working
and they're all so excited.
Passing through uncounscious states,
when I awoke I was on the highway.
With your hands on my shoulders ,
a meaningless movement: A movie script ending,
and the patrons are leaving.
And now we all know the words were true
in the sappiest songs - yes, yes.
and I'll put them to bed, but they won't sleep.
Just shuffling the sheets, to toss and turn,
you can't begin to get it back.
Passing through uncouscious states, when I awoke I was on
the onset of a later stage: the headlights are beacons on the highway.