| The thermometer ran out of numbers when it reached fifty degrees
|
| I just laid down on the floor with a bag of frozen peas
|
| We saw plumes of smoke rising in the distance from our balcony
|
| I poured a glass of wine
|
| Sucked the juice out of a kiwi, Catherine turned on the TV
|
| They showed acres after acres of absolutely nothing
|
| And then Stevie called and said, «Are you watching what I’m watching?»
|
| I said, «I'm watching what you’re watching but what is it I’m watching?»
|
| The night before I had been bored, my legs had been restless
|
| It was my birthday; |
| I’d already opened up my presents
|
| At the social club I met some friends who were friends with this girl
|
| One by one they dropped off 'til it was just me and her
|
| We made out in every bar in town
|
| While the state of Victoria burned down to the ground
|
| And the sun rose over the city
|
| The wind swept through the valley
|
| You don’t get over a broken heart
|
| You just learn to carry it gracefully
|
| The Edinburgh gardens offered some kind of shade
|
| I would pick up some beers and head down there late
|
| Watch the possums and listen to their growling banter
|
| There was one I liked especially; |
| I named her Sam, as in Samantha
|
| I offered a slice of apple from my hand
|
| She would sniff it, frown, and then lumber back to the trash can
|
| I was going uphill on my Malvern Star when I was passed by a scooter
|
| «You got a dollar or a cigarette? |
| Hey, I’m talking to you, poofter!»
|
| What I should have said was nothing, what I said was «Get lost!»
|
| Next thing I’m upside-down with my bike in the dust
|
| Spitting dirt all the way home
|
| Cursing the very ground which I was chewing on
|
| And that’s what it’s like when you’ve had your heart broken
|
| The world just shrugs its shoulders and keeps going
|
| It just moves on in all its sadness and glory
|
| Over dinner with a friend, I tell her my story
|
| And as I finally put the book back on the shelf
|
| She says, «Maybe it’s time you take a look at yourself»
|
| No one’s born an asshole, takes a lot of hard work
|
| But God knows I’ve worked my ass off to be a jerk
|
| So many hands I’ve held while wondering why I felt nothing
|
| And why when I let go of that hand I always start to feel something
|
| Like a bottle smashed against my head
|
| She said, «I wish you just would’ve cheated on me instead»
|
| And loving without loving is always the worst crime
|
| I know all the signs and signals cause now I’ve been on both sides
|
| The way you choose your words, the limpness of your hand
|
| I almost died when you introduced me as a friend
|
| «How can you call me a friend?
|
| If you don’t love me then please have the dignity to tell me!»
|
| But I never said any of that
|
| I just shook that hand and looked down at the doormat |