Wait until the day says it's closing,
and public is put away
Write by the light of a pay phone,
your list of "I meant to say"
Like "Winter comes too soon",
or "Radiators hum out of tune"
Out under the Disraeli,
with rusty train track ties,
we'll carve new streets and sidewalks,
a city for small lives,
and say that we'll stay for one more year
Wait near the end of September
Wait for some stars to show
Try so hard not to remember,
what all empty playgrounds know,
that sympathy is cruel
Reluctant jester or simpering fool
But six feet off the highway,
our bare legs stung with wheat,
we'll dig a hole and bury all we could not defeat,
and say that we'll stay for one more year
Bend to tie a shoelace,
or bend against your fear,
and say that you'll stay for one more year
With so much left to seek,
the lease runs out next week