Wednesday

nothing here to fear

i'm just sitting around being foolish

when there is work to be done

just a hang-up call

and the quiet breathing

of our persian

we call cajun on a wednesday

so we go from year to year

with secrets we've been keeping

though you say you're not a templar man

seems as if we're circling

for very different reasons

but one day the eagle has to land

out past the fountain a left by the station i start the day

in the usual way

then think -- well why not --

and stop for a coffee

then begin to recall things that

you say

no one's at the door

you suggest a ghost

perhaps a phantom

i agree with this in part

something is with us

i can't put my finger on

-- is thumbalina size 10 on a wednesday --

so we go you tell me

to cheer up

you suspect we're oddly even

even still

the eagle has to land

out past the fountain

pluck up the courage

and snap it's gone again

i start humming "when doves cry"

can someone help me

i think that i'm lost here

lost in a place called america