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I don't know what they want

I don’t know what they want so I offer cookies and lemonade
I don’t know what they need so I proffer sleeping bags, toothbrushes
I don’t know who they are so we start introductions
I don’t know where they came from so we start drawing maps

I don’t know what might be useful so I start pulling things out
camera bags, wooden trains, tiny Lederhosen, broken easels
I don’t know what might be dangerous so I pack things away
sharp tables, Ethiopian daggers, rat poison, bleach

I don’t know when they’ll be back so I wait
I don’t know when they’ll be back so I wonder
I don’t know when they’ll be back so I start vaguely doodling
I don’t know if they’ll be back so I pack up to go

I don’t know why it matters but some things make me mad
so I try to remember: one foot, one day
I don’t know why it matters but some things make me sad
so I look for the music, I wait for the sunshine

Oh I am the desert and those thoughts are like tumbleweeds
I am the sky and they skitter like clouds
if I can be patient, there will be a tomorrow
if I stand stock still, the world will come back around

I don’t know how to stop. I see gongs and masks
I see flowers dried back when the world was still breathing
I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know what might be useful.
I don’t know what might be dangerous. I don’t know what they need.

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