Tuesday, January 31

Passenger

in my high heels and my old dress with my new keys and the roses, walking 'round Chicago i have smuggled you as cargo. though you are far away unknowing by the time we get to salt lake i have packed you in my suitcase, iron the creases from my own remembering. i don't know what you smoke or what countries you've been to but i'd like to meet you.

Passenger, i don't know & little bird.

Lisa Hannigan