In the stick-count for the song
of knowing you're gone
glancing up at where you lived
when you lived here

I see you suddenly alive
and nearly smiling
stop and hold my breath
and watch the way you used to be

the full moon makes
our faces shine
like over-ironed polyester

then disappears
behind the clouds
leaves me under empty rows
of night windows

we could walk to where these streets
get pulled together
a blinking line with gravel
shoulders squared towards an end

where the radio resounds
from doppling traffic

where the power lines steal
S's from the hourly news

depluralize
our casualities
drown the generals out in static

we'd turn and watch
our city sprawl
send us signals in the glow
of night windows

night windows
night windows

but you're not
coming home again
-Night windows-
and i won't
ever get to say
-Night windows-

remember how, i'm sorry that
i miss the way, could we...

remember how, i'm sorry that
i miss the way, could we...


night windows
night windows