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Trafficking in recollections                                        trading neon nights for bygone days. From ceiling lights to humming street signs sealed records come untied. Another time far from perfection                                         close enough for mapping smiles, covering miles and chasing laughs                out of throats         and into corner booths. Grabbing coats, it's back out into night, sleeves shining tables the moment we go, then arms entwining. Voices warmed,                we sang together                *"...seemed so brief                  but it wasn't / Now           I know I had plenty of time..."* (Weakerthans) When was it we went out walking, bundled up through Winnipeg? Easter Break? Or January, drifting,                       chilled through wind or meltwash? Calendars defy me now, though every night recall the time,                            the place,            the lights of Your Great City            flashing off your coffee eyes and through the heavy, falling snowflakes on a Spring or Winter night. I'm traffic on chilly sidewalks                                         trading CO2 for oxygen. No cars disturb the late night silence, shallow breaths or slow footsteps. And, as I walk against the signal,                                        late October snow obscures street signs, dulling laughs from doors               of the bars and late night coffee haunts. Seems so far to my small West Side home. Heels hitting pavement and face turned to stars, arms hanging downward, my voice, drowned                mouths words, half-quiet                *"...dusk comes on                  and I follow / the exhaust               from memory up to the end..."* (Weakerthans)
0
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
One Great Pity
Trafficking in recollections                                        trading neon nights for bygone days. From ceiling lights to humming street signs sealed records come untied. Another time far from perfection                                         close enough for mapping smiles, covering miles and chasing laughs                out of throats         and into corner booths. Grabbing coats, it's back out into night, sleeves shining tables the moment we go, then arms entwining. Voices warmed,                we sang together                *"...seemed so brief                  but it wasn't / Now           I know I had plenty of time..."* (Weakerthans) When was it we went out walking, bundled up through Winnipeg? Easter Break? Or January, drifting,                       chilled through wind or meltwash? Calendars defy me now, though every night recall the time,                            the place,            the lights of Your Great City            flashing off your coffee eyes and through the heavy, falling snowflakes on a Spring or Winter night. I'm traffic on chilly sidewalks                                         trading CO2 for oxygen. No cars disturb the late night silence, shallow breaths or slow footsteps. And, as I walk against the signal,                                        late October snow obscures street signs, dulling laughs from doors               of the bars and late night coffee haunts. Seems so far to my small West Side home. Heels hitting pavement and face turned to stars, arms hanging downward, my voice, drowned                mouths words, half-quiet                *"...dusk comes on                  and I follow / the exhaust               from memory up to the end..."* (Weakerthans)
Excerpt(s) Citation: The Weakerthans. "Civil Twilight." Reunion Tour. Anti-, 2007. Various Formats.
kyle-kulseth
Written by
M/American
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
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