DUSTY BOXES

in the canyon where we congregated
storylines went unrelated
    remembered just enough to make it back for one more round.
unors field used to be the scene
summer nights and in between
  no one cared too much about the past, till she came to town.

no one even saw her coming
even though the skies were humming 
  long before she blew through here and it blew up in your face.
and in her consciousness we congregated
she's the day we celebrated
  and then you realized she'd come and gone without a trace.

  a dusty box of dolls, broken shuttlecocks and basketballs,
  she's got dusty boxes somewhere
  now the people that adore her scour every shady corner
  for the story how she made it over here from over there

do you remember how it felt back then?
stumbling home and back again
  never know what trinkets from today tomorrow saves 
all our feet hard on the throttle
all the messages and bottles
  and we always went for distance when we tossed them to the waves

the documents to bring to light
the truth about the darkest night
  those dusty tongues just chuckle, and they hold their secrets well
in the attics where they're relegated
waiting to be liberated 
  wondering if time will ever come for them to tell

  a dusty box of bones, broken radios and polished stones
  she's got dusty boxes somewhere
  a gray and fading photograph, a fossil of the way she'd laugh...