Les Rêves Canadiens

                  FIRST NIGHT

            It doesn't matter what was said
            Tying up bundles of sounds for recycling
            We used subtle gestures and pointed with our eyes
            Desperately attempting to electrocute phrases
            To somehow make new
            Start a spark, force a fire
            On the first night.
            Somewhere inside the obligation of a dance
            Catching each other by the fingers
            We pulled ourselves into one another
            Stepping over the words
            Into spaces surpassing our sex
            You could see right through the floor...

            The smell of the interior of dad's brand new car
            The smell of leaves burning, floating in cold air
            The smell, oh --
            The smell of her perfume
            And vanilla, and diesel, and chives.
            Sliding my hands down the small of her back
            A radio blaring next door
            And she glowed, the sun setting in her chest
            She tasted like salt.
            On the other side of this sensory overload
            I lost all my words
            And even though you can't possibly understand
            That's exactly how it was
            On the first night.

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