Goodbye Butterfield
Goodbye Butterfield

On a night so hot I couldn’t sleep, I said to myself
Remember this night when the snow is six feet deep
Remember everything because nothing lasts for long
Then in the quiet after crickets and before the first sparrow’s song
I dreamed I took a lover in the back seat of a Valiant
And I woke up wanting to, but don’t have a Valiant, do I
Goodbye, Butterfield, goodbye
Goodbye, Butterfield, goodbye

How many crows can you fit in a sugar maple?
I ran out with my camera but the picture came out black
And the noise was like that too, it was a solid racket
And I stood there a long time shivering without a jacket,
The weather changed so fast and so soon, so soon
And I just had to watch until the crows took off to fly
Goodbye Butterfield, goodbye
Goodbye, Butterfield, goodbye

I almost missed my shift at the Butterfield Theater
When my Chevrolet got stuck in a drift and I had to walk
I was frozen stiff when I finally made it there
To the dusty reek of popcorn and the usher’s stinking hair
But on the way I cut across the river and heard the ice creek under my feet
I thought about the current underneath and how easy it would be to die
Goodbye Butterfield, goodbye
Goodbye, Butterfield, goodbye

I lost my wristwatch, my backpack and one of my hoop earrings
All on the same day. Shedding, I said
But I retraced my footsteps across the bridge, up Spring Street
And found the first crocus blooming underneath an apple tree
Then the first warm wind blew and I unbuttoned my coat
And then lost that too, and my keys and my driving wheel
Goodbye Butterfield, goodbye