

(mm-mm) I watched the hero cross the frozen lawn
With perfect timing right before the dawn He had thirty pages left
to turn it around And
swept her off the solid ground
I closed the paper spine and looked outside Just parked sedans under
a grey sky
Nobody wrote a script for how we walk by
No swelling strings, no
dramatic goodbye
Just umbrella ribs and ordinary rain
Falling in love is a trick in the ink
Something that happens while nobody thinks
Folded on page ninety-two on a shelf
It never turns out like that for anyone else (no,
not for anyone else)
We share the salt and split the morning rent
Forget the holidays and where the money went
There is no chapter where the fireworks start
Just quiet habits beating in a heart
I leave the dog-eared paperback by the bed
Believing every lie that I read
Nobody writes a poem about lukewarm tea
Or how you look away while talking to me
Yet here we are surviving another week
Falling in love is a trick in the ink
Something that happens while nobody thinks
Folded on page ninety-two on a shelf
It never turns out like that for anyone else (never turns out
like that)
Maybe the real thing is dusty and slow
Not a grand fire that burns in the snow Just leaving the
nightlight
beside the hall door
Wanting no more,
wanting no more
Just words in a binding
That stay on the shelf
(in the books,
only in the books)