the braid from your hair 

rested on your shoulder

shown in the green light

from the panel of instruments


the hairs looked like threads

woven and were perfect 

shaking when you spoke

and the voice near perfect too

the darkness killed all doubt



not more than an hour

and mostly simple words

straightened out the corners 

and for a short time filled the seams

so no light could break in


without all the lows 

there's no way to describe

contrast the last of night

of jackson and canada


if we didn't lie

how could you believe

the closeness in between

the dawn and blue half-light

so little in between


re-enactors reconsider please

the chance to someday let you down

good as any that you've heard of

at night on your a.m. radio


when the car doors closed

eyes were all too tired

there's nothing left to see

there's nothing in between