Black Sunday
Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday
with freezing rains melting and no trains running
and sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
and my seat rocking from legs not quite matching,
Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching
Black Sunday falls one day too soon.
The taxi that takes me will be moving too quickly
My suitcases simply too full for the closing
of pants, shirts and kisses all packed in a hurry,
Two best-selling paper backs chosen at random
no sign of sales-persons to whom I might hand them.
Black Sunday falls one day too soon.
And down at the airport are probably waiting
a few thousand passengers, overbooked seating
Time long suspended in transit-lounge traumas
connections broken and Special Branch waiting
conspicuously standing in holiday clothing.
Black Sunday falls one day too soon.
Pick up my feet and kick off my lethargy,
Down to the gate with the old mood upon me,
Get out and chase the small immortality
born in the minute of my next returning
Impatient feet tapping and cigarette burning.
Homecoming one day too soon.
And back at the house there's a grey sky a-tumbling,
Milk bottles piling on door steps a-crumbling,
Curtains all drawn and cold water plumbing
Notepaper scribbles I read unbelieving
Saying how sorry, how sad was the leaving
…one day too soon.
Tomorrow is the one day I would change for a Monday
with freezing rains melting and no trains running
and sad eyes passing in windows flimsy
and my seat rocking from legs not quite matching,
Got passport, credit cards, a plane that I'm catching
Black Sunday falls one day too soon.