Thursday, March 26, 2015

For Bill in Missoula, Thirty Years Ago

Nobody's on the bridge tonight.
Nobody's guarding the gates.
Nobody's riding the moonlit bus

Through the canyons at twilight.
One more minute into the dark
As though it might never turn,

And then we will turn around.
We are all not in this together.
We have all sworn our separate escapes.

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