Monday, October 19, 2009

"You want to smoke a cigarette with me?"
We sat in the car, two people
who hadn't spoke in months.
"What are you doing next year?"
"How is the house?"
"When does the album come out?"
We sat in the car, two people
who had known each other for years
and hurt each other enough to be strangers again.

"you take these shears here and cut the 
rose bushes down to the base"
"daddy, there are still buds on these"
"yea but you've got to cut them down 
before the snow comes, so they can grow back."

The leaves weren't even done changing,
and had barely started falling, when
the forecast said snow on saturday 
and the wind chill supported its claim.

The snow would come and kill all 
the potential of the rosebuds
if I didn't kill them first. 
And I had to trust that they would grow back again.

Things will get much worse before they get better. 

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