Rochester

A nine month winter
In the station wagon
Driven to grade school
And Seattle fashion

The t-shirts we wore
Hung near the linoleum
Which, though polished
Scattered ashes in the classroom

They would not talk to you
Said they could see through you
And you swallowed hard
And scanned the street for cars
To take you home

Over the river
And bright-eyed freedom
Bridges were taller
And you could see them

And drowning sorrows
In bowls of golden grahams
Birds out the window
While you ran through the plan

They would not talk to you
Said they could see through you
And you swallowed hard
And scanned the street for cars
To take you home

You chose a Wednesday
No logic sideways
One day to find you
An assembly Fridays

But that grey morning
I was cutting class
And saw you balancing
Like gymnastics

You and my stomach
They fell together
My eyes were burning
Was it the weather?

And then that silver splash
And a sea of sirens
Lights on the water
Had all gone red

I would not talk to you
I pretended i could see through you
And watched you swallow hard
And watched you swallow hard
And scan the street for cars
To take you home