Some faded curtain sways in a phantom breeze and air swells in the old duct behind the bed Cowboy Junkies play Salted meat stench, tobacco and zest linger The misted road on the outside refracts moonlight through a crack
it's all too disjointed but also clear, all so clear
The cliched call from anonymous houses, screaming; drunken screaming I t ' s F r i d a y n i g h t You're invited
The notion enters in eerie silences and wood-frames creak and the curtains still dance and green leaves look black in that middle point between the lamp posts and a stray car buzzes along a sultry surface; it is the moth, brazen in search of light and who are we, if not moths in search of light? Can you hear that ocean swell or do you roar in unison too Would you change as the weather and embrace everything everybody and life to reach transcendence