overhaul / undertow

Thursday, August 08, 2002

Measure me in metered lines, in one decisive stare, the time it takes to get from here to there.
I'm unconsoled, I'm lonely, I'm so much better than I used to be.
Terrified of telephones and shopping mall, and knives,
and drowning in the pools of other lives.
Rely a bit too heavily on alcohol and irony. Get clobbered on by courtesy,
in love with love and lousy poetry.
And I'm leaning on a broken fence between Past and Present tense.
And I'm losing all these stupid games that I swore I'd never play.
But it almost feels okay.
Circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty,
armed with every precious failure, and amateur cartography,
I breathe in deep before I spread these maps out on my bedroom floor.
Leaving. Wave goodbye. Losing, but I'll try,
with the last ways left,
to remember; sing
my imperfect

-the weakerthans, "aside"


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