Canada

There’s a place, I’ve never been

With soft-lit living rooms and kitchens sweet, reeking cinnamon

There’s a light, I’ve never seen

Kept on hopelessly, guiding home the restless one who left there

And if it gets cold in Canada, where will I run?

There’s a curse, I never caught

Sentenced to be stuck like all the ghosts who haunt the city hallways

There’s a man going north

Running fast from all the hound dogs panting wild along his foot paths

And if it gets cold in Canada, where will I run?

I’m pledging my allegiance to these reasons why I’m not already gone

There’s a bird, in the wind

Helpless to help which way he will blow and I am too.