|
We drove a hundred miles that day |
|
To see a Halloween parade |
|
Skeletal autumn in Cold Spring |
|
Parents holding hands with Pale Death's infants |
|
Shivering on the courthouse steps in polyester robes |
|
And exposed bone thermals |
|
March them down to Riverside Square |
|
Your teeth gnash together as you chew an Excedrin |
|
On the way home |
|
The empty parkway wound its way back through charred black pine |
|
Just like a wormhole |
|
Hickory death rattles into stagnant tracts of sky |
|
Like warnings whispered |
|
Antiphonal stridency that slept for half a century |
|
And where are you |
|
As lives are punctuated by moons |
|
I've never loved you more than when you said |
|
"I'm so scared of all the things I risk with kids I never knew existed." |
|
Time machine rotors ripping holes over Freehold |
|
Constellations rearrange and orbit 'round the steeple |
|
Of First Presbyterian Church |
|
I am Bear Mountain |
|
I am entering orbit, oh |
|
I am Bear Mountain |
|
I am entering orbit |
|
On the way home |
|
The empty parkway wound its way back through charred black pine |
|
Just like a wormhole |
|
A bridge becomes an island when the ends are disconnected |
|
Wind is feedback |
|
Antiphonal stridency that slept for half a century |
|
And where are you? |
