2003-11-11 - 12:01 p.m.
she told me tangled fairy tales/
and the story of how she lost/
her sense of curiosity/
as she dangled from the cross/
and through it all we spoke of dreams/
and how to make them stop.
how to make them stop for you and me.
i was hunched over a typewriter/
while words dripped from my wrists/
painting pictures of a universe/
where i thought that we could live/
and you took one down and hung it up/
and turned it to the left/
'it looks better from this angle, don't you think?'
for every breath that i exhaled/
you took less then half/
smiling at the way i looked/
as you lied on my lap/
then i woke up screaming/
and i couldn't take it back.
i couldn't take it back from where it went.
these are stunted conversations/
these are lies and ill gotten gains/
though the characters come in and out/
the scenery doesn't change/
we can draw our own conclusions/
or we can step back from the game/
step back and take a look at what we've done.
i like you the way you are/
i like what we have built/
the foundations deep as irony/
and the walls are lined with guilt/
but we can call it eden/
we can call it what we will.
we can say that we created it ourselves.
i imagined this a circle folded/
two halfs in your hand/
and you carved your name in backwards/
so that i would understand/
what it was you meant to say/
you buried your feet in sand.
and i was standing on olympia looking down.
hold your cards up to your chest/
keep your secrets to yourself/
you don't move like you used to/
you took his picture off the shelf/
and held it there like a shield/
as you told me that he helped/
helped you through the hardest thing you'd done.
i reached into my wallet
and change spilled on the floor/
i took out a faded photograph/
not sure what i was looking for/
you said, 'she's very pretty.'
i said, ' she needs to be adored.'
and i don't think i can do it any longer.
theres a miracle waiting to happen/
eclipsed by a disaster/
bounded here by fate/
and some sweet ever after/
where the promises we made
fade as we shout into the rafters,
'this is what i wanted all along!'
we only see eye to eye/
when we've had too much to drink/
and you wrap yourself around me/
and i smile at you and wink/
then we pretend that nothing happened/
and we both go home and think,
'where did this all come from?'
manitoulin island/
nineteen eighty four/
george orwell and sarah harmer/
snow angels and folk lore/
half hearted education/
victory ignored.
a melody caught in between the high notes.
there are places we don't recognize/
and hands that aren't our own/
that built this city long ago/
the fields lay fallow and unsown/
you can plant our seeds beside her grave/
we'll watch them as they grow.
i'll watch you as you grow before my eyes.
you can't play piano/
i sing like i'm ashamed/
you drew all the outlines/
and i built it a frame/
we both coloured randomly/
laughing at our strange game/
laughing like we knew we shouldn't have.
you didn't see me at the hospital/
my face awash with rage/
balanced on the precipice/
learning to walk again/
learning how to help myself/
learning that i'd changed.
learning that i had so much to love.
we live comfortably in this country/
we have time to learn to dance/
take this as it comes to us/
and leave the rest to chance/
you might want me when he bores you
or you might sit on the fence/
and wait to see if i will come and find you.
we couldn't make out what he sang/
but we knew it was for us/
i knew that i recognized her/
when she got on the bus/
and sat down right across from me/
in a shirt covered in rust.
something was happening to us both.
i didn't see you at the funeral/
you didn't know my name/
but we both had things we'd wished we'd said/
and now we shared the blame/
united by a common greed/
for innocence and pain/
united by the strange look in our eyes.
i heard a man play violin/
in the subway in toronto/
with his eyes clenched tight in reverie/
his hands choking vibratto/
out of battered, worn out strings/
as the crowd walked by in shadows/
no one else was paying any mind.
it was then that i remembered/
your kind words and your bracelet/
at the start of this november/
when i hadn't showed my face yet/
the last two weeks have changed my life/
i can't pin it down or name it.
but i know you gave me something that i needed.
so you stood there silouetted and/
you tried to shine a spotlight/
from the roof of the york hotel/
down onto my past life./
i didn't move an inch from there/
this is exactly what i/
was afraid would happen if you came.
you barely even knew my name/
i barely knew your mysteries/
you said, 'some things never change.'
as you interrupt the reverie/
for each of us, there is a sign/
each of us deserves some peace.
and i will bring you forward if you let me.
you keep your own fire tended/
and arrange the furniture
you took my life and upended it/
because you wanted to make sure/
that when we're old and wiser/
i'll remember that you were/
you were there for my own good.
as we walked down salem avenue/
you showed me where it all broke/
the water lapped against the shore/
and i lit up a smoke/
you looked like you were dangerous/
as you unbuttoned your coat.
its still warm for automn, don't you think.
you offered me a masterpiece/
wrapped in home made paper/
i offered you the rest of me/
you said, 'it doesn't matter/
you know that i can't take you home/
though i must admit i'm flattered.
flattered that we came through this unscathed.
we plotted the equation on/
a graph on faded napkins/
and decided that we'd let things be/
and just see what will happen/
cause fate is not a diagram/
and we are not just fractions/
but the sum of something larger than us both.
