This is what it looks like.
- Tori Amos

The mornings after, heart would
Say oh na no, sky would fall silent
And my bike tires would turn
And turn and turn

The famous
Minneapolis river would wash everything
The same color, in the bicycle lane
Even cars would change, the
Light signal and down we went

The gleaming asphalt worn to pebbles
Sinking shoulders down and each passerby
Reminds me of an old friend.
This is the duty of adulthood, I remind
Myself, to shed the mystery, the hope--
For each unhappy thought I develop a theory
Then whittle it into a term
Pressing pedals. It’s almost dark.
My heart goes, it sounds like a clock. It really goes! There’s a
Train whistle somewhere very close or far, away
There was a man in my bed, we spun gold back to hay.

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