Fond

We remember simpler days, softer afternoons
In lovely backyard gardens and dusk-lit rooms
We stop short of future things, like

I'm in town

or

here's my number, let's grab a drink

or

I wonder if when I kiss you
I'll remember how much you hurt me

Candlestick Maker

The baker starts at four o'clock
Dusting two hands and the counter tops
Steals the flour and peel

At six the butcher wipes down the block
In a storefront astride the docks
Steals a gleaming knife and steel

At midnight, the chandler's at the pot
Skimming the paraffin for flies it has caught
Steals the matches and the wicks

All three in their tubs, sailing alone
Downriver and paddling home

And the butcher carves the wheel
And the baker shouts at the mill
And the chandler burns up inside
Yeah, the chandler just burns up inside

The tools that we own and the skills that we hone
Won't help us down the river we're sailing alone
There is nothing to learn that just one of us knows
We all kill, we all yell, we all burn

I Don't Have To

You'd been haunting my muddy waters
Crawling ashore with me
From the rivers, lakes, and oceans
That carried you back in my dreams

Long road to my baptism in our headwaters
but you felt weightless
As pretty as the day you met me
Up the canyon in your thin white dress

And I was supposed to be dead to you
And you, you're supposed to be dead too
But the rivers in my dreams are lovely with you
I just can't shake it, and now I know

I don't have to