Out in your backyard, 'bout a month before this flood
We stumbled on things tossed away, sunk and defunct in the mud
You took a little box: burned, or caked with grime
Didn't know what to put it in to make it peel, reveal its undershine
Or know what to put in it, what it could safely hold
My best friend, for you, I am trying to get everything said and told
To say
Though your flare from the shore fills the ocean with shadows
I am too fixed on the moon to climb away clear of the tide
Far nearer than that sky your eyes are plainly led
Where even lines in parallel converge somewhere up ahead
Am I walking too quick (weighed by no carpenter's load)?
I can't build a home, though I can pave a road
Late in the rainy season, I wandered back
To where you dug in your heels
And asked for my plans for our frame and foundation — as if I knew
Though I didn't tell you anything untrue, still, I am saying I lied
Here there is a box, hollow on the floor
My fierce revelation, I'm trying to want what I wanted before
There's a roof over you, there's nothing of mine in your drawer
And I promise I'm glad for the light that shines under your door
