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Dave Bidini and Dave Clark |
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You woke the wrecking yard hounds |
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When you slammed the passenger side. |
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Father watched you from the yard |
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With his knuckles wrapped in ice. |
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Now the screen door is still broken |
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Since you kicked your Kodiaks through it. |
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But we left the Christmas tree standing |
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In case you turned around. |
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Now I've heard you've got a good job |
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Pitching hay down in Salmon Arm. |
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Maybe I'll hike there from the coast |
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When the weather starts to warm. |
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K.D. called on the weekend; |
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She was crying on the telephone, |
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'Cause father said as far as he's concerned |
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You've been stricken from our home. |
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He's gone out of his head. |
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(She's gone out of her head.) |
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He's gone out of his head. |
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(She's gone out of his head.) |
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He's gone out of his head. |
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Sometimes choices aren't so clear. |
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Father raged like a soldier. |
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He put his fist through the kitchen door |
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When I said it would have been better if |
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You had split on your own accord. |
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I don't care about the damage, |
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But I wish you were there to see it |
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When I scored a hat-trick on the team |
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That called you a fucking queer. |
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Gonna find me another home. |
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The things you'll never know. |
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The things you'll never feel. |
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The things you'll never see. |
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The times you'll never know. |
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(I'm in the country now, among the rattlesnakes and the sage-brush. The concrete and asphalt and glass are gone, and in its place is well water and black spruce and gravel roads which snake and curl and wind through the valley. I wish you were here to watch the sun sneak above the mountains and play with the pure light across the farmland; it'll fuck your mind up. But I'm glad I'm here and not there. If I had stayed, I would've killed him. I would have come home and found him asleep on the couch, and walked up to him and pressed the gun against his head, and watched it explode in a glorious watercolor fountain, all thick and red and gory. I would have used it to paint the picture I'm seeing now.) |
