Here I am in 80-degree South American weather, and it’s finally thawing a bit in New York (56 degrees today?). Damn. Well, here’s to the coming of spring, whenever it does…
—Lyrics—
walking in from the garden
you have dirt under your thumb nails
eyes so collapsed under wet snow
you dig out what you can grow
and I want the same things that I wanted then
you want things you never wanted when you said you wanted me
spring comes just as it should come
too late to salvage the lifeless
bodies of flowers and tomatoes
left over from better times
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