A Long Night's Journey Into Day
Bronxville 1998
We weren't bored that first night;
We worked on fear and coffee
in a town I never knew.
There was a hospital,
a train;
a bar across the street from
the garden wall we sat on,
crushing Marigolds behind us.
We were always going there...
past the old firehouse,
to sit out after midnight
beneath the loft apartments.
We wandered through the alleys,
wondering...
what "consignment" meant,
or "how much those paintings went for",
while eating cotton candy.
In my mind we were always there -
window shopping in the half-light
or curled up on a bench;
Your arm around my shoulders...
You never knew the fear I held
of been seen.
I often think,
that if it ever ends
it will happen there;
In that creepy little town
where store windows
come alive at night
and the theatre never opens.
We worked on fear and coffee
in a town I never knew.
There was a hospital,
a train;
a bar across the street from
the garden wall we sat on,
crushing Marigolds behind us.
We were always going there...
past the old firehouse,
to sit out after midnight
beneath the loft apartments.
We wandered through the alleys,
wondering...
what "consignment" meant,
or "how much those paintings went for",
while eating cotton candy.
In my mind we were always there -
window shopping in the half-light
or curled up on a bench;
Your arm around my shoulders...
You never knew the fear I held
of been seen.
I often think,
that if it ever ends
it will happen there;
In that creepy little town
where store windows
come alive at night
and the theatre never opens.
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Bronxville 1998
Bronxville 1998
