So you were holding a space by the window a spot by the wall and I’m cold again. Maybe when we get back the two of us could stand, under waterfalls drinking the pouring rain. Sharing simple thoughts in the light of day. Reading monologues as you wash them away.
What are the chances that you’ll drive me home? It’s too bad there are no back roads to take us all the way home. Can we start a holiday, quit our jobs and puff away, arrested on your birthday.
Every time tom gets in over his head, he calls me every day over and over again, to get clean again, to see clear again. Maybe when we’re older we can reconnect, live out our new lives like Johnny Carson did.
There was a glare in the window staring back at me, you had a hitch in your smile and it said life doesn’t mean much more than this. There was a kink in your jacket that made me believe that the life and the car ride was worth repeating. Slow motion, closed emotion, lets just sing.
It was a long lost bliss that made me forget that the other side of town never sees the grass I’m always planting.