Hanalei
Twilight Gleam
From the mouth of the west to the belly of the Midweston January 12th we had good reasonsthe weather's always nice, but you had to pay the priceand everything in our lives was lacking seasonscene snobs and temp jobs, earthquakes and summer fogthe Golden State stopped shining when Lincoln showed us diamondsboxes in the van and nice shows through the heartlandwe left the apathy of I-80 for the promise of Dan Ryanpulled in to your big gray arms on a frostbitten Monday morningbeer bruised and dead tiredoh, I hadn't felt so alive in yearsCentral Park and Wrightwood, we helped gentrify the neighborhoodthe basement we moved into had a carpet full of bloodstainsthere were mice in the walls and roaches in the hallsand the winter wind crept in through the cracks beneath the window panesthe first night we juiced livers up at the Diversey Riverand I quit quitting smoking when I opened up my eighth beerby the end of the week I had a job at the punk club down the streetand my first shift ended with the blizzard of the yearit was coming down hard just after midnightand I went out drunk dancing in the slow-globed alleysI fell down, laughing in the cold and white, underneath the street lightsoh, I hadn't felt so warm in years
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