Track Insight / Lyrics
I've parked the cab on Elm third block and
this bench is cold as a stale bus ticket
That lamp above the stop keeps hiccuping—on, off, on—a sputtering orange cough
A kid in a yellow jacket counts the gaps between each stutter, quiet as a held breath
I tip my cap and mutter, "Every fare arrives, even the slow ones, son"
And the lamp's still here see Still
spitting its little pulse onto cracked asphalt
The doesn't come yet but this shelter's
got a roof and the bench still holds
You don't need the whole avenue lit to know where your stop is, I tell the kid
I've run this corner nine winters and that bulb has not quit on us yet
Sleet on the glass I tap the
wipers and watch them chew the grey slush
Her keys jangle three blocks south, the kid's mother, and the light's still on
She nods at the lamp like it's a
neighbor keeping the corner steady hands still shaking
I laugh, punch the meter, and the little needle swings back to zero, ready for the next
And the lamp's still here, see? Still spitting its little pulse onto cracked asphalt
The doesn't come yet but this shelter's
got a roof and the bench still holds
You don't need the whole avenue lit to know where your stop is, I tell the kid
I've run this corner nine winters and that bulb has not quit on us yet
