I heard you say something to the effect,ngood poetry, you'd never writtennPerhaps you were being funny to say such a thingnWhat about the night in Junencoming back from New Yorknthe road, the shadows, the moon?nI say if you got a bird, then you gotta let it sing amorynnEleanore, in the haystack when the rain was soaking throughnthe devil in the alley where the buildings were white and the darkness was bluennMr. Pharonbean, driving in the carnheading into townneither you stumbled upon thingsnor things just came to younamorynnYou and your friends left Trenston for the beach without a penny to your namenthe atlantic city hotel room where you took all the blamenMonsignor Darcy wrote you to find your cousin Claire Pagenthe way to Claire's you rodenyou took after your ma, I'd say she'd a done the samenamorynnHow you believed but you struggled in the lord abovenyou survived a war, but you're lost and alonennWell may your hair always be auburnnmay your eyes always be greennmay you rise each time you fallnwe're only dealt the hand, it don't come with a glove,namorynnoh, amoryn