A lady is running to catch a bus
Her clothes smell like perfume and cigarettes
Her picture ID never looks like her
And no one ever checks
And the glare of that September sun
Perfectly blinds the eastbound ones
And reminds us all of last year's smudge
We never got around to cleaning up
An old abandoned carwash, a dead racoon
A city emptied out into empty streets
He looked like he was sleeping in between
Yellow lines cradling his cheek
And before we made long distance calls
And gave up writing what we saw
Before we watched suburban sprawl
We'd forgotten what we learned and what we taught
Can I ask forgiveness for what I have?
Or do I have to give it away and part with it?
And if I give away what matters most
Is this really all there is?