83

We hiked the falls, consumed in awe
 August of '83
 The hemlocks high
 And laurels lie beneath their canopy
 What is the meaning of numbers
 Tuesdays are your worst
 I dreamed of you in white woven linen
 And wide open beautiful spaces
 The kind for which there's no replacing
 Sprawling falls on split rocks that quiver
 Our vested love
 Countless days, the twelfth of May, and all we knew
 Turning tires, turnstiles, no path to choose
 The ones that he called babies
 The littlest of them all
 One who'd keep the blackest sheep
 Save the harm
 We hiked the falls, exhumed with awe
 August of '93
 An eddy of patchouli hovers next to me
 In wide open beautiful spaces
 And you I know there's no replacing
 Nestled in the ivy so weathered
 The angels, my vanquished love
 Count the days, the twelfth of May, and all we knew
 Turnstiles, turning backs, those leaden shoes
 The ones that he called babies
 The biggest of them all
 In meadows deep, the blackest sheep, long to belong
 83, 83, I flock to you
 You are the sunny side of a leaden sky
 And it shines right through
 The one that he called baby
 The littlest of them all
 One must keep the blackest sheep
 Save the harm
 Save the harm
 Save the harm