Fists in our sleeves, we reach our limit. No waypast Lake Ontario, nothing else to dountil you say the thing you need to say.
Sweeten it if you like. Stir in a name.It’s only talk and we’ve talked our heads tofoam before, testing the limit in a way.
Like the last time our four feet inched partwayover the city’s ledge. Lightheaded youstarted to say something you needed to say
then started again, We could– we can fly one way.Right over the lake. How you said it, as if we were twowild geese, no credit limit in the way. Ain’t no way,
I said. Way. No way. Way. Tonight at the lakeyour courage fails again. Knuckles in your pits, youflap your arms and squawk. Say what you’re dying to say.
Of course, don’t. We’re getting carried away.We’ll stay this side of Lake Ontario, clenched. Noussommes à la limite de l’amitié – find a wayto translate. If you won’t say, I won’t say.
