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Canada Dreams |
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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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