Skinny Days - Greg Brown

My skinny days, my heavy nights —

A blue blue room, up three flights —

She waves and turns from the window to her boy

The band is through, the wedding gown

Is one more flag that’s coming down

The sun is rising like a bomb over Illinois

My heavy nights, my skinny days —

The way she tends her secret place

While uncles gather in the parlor thick with smoke

Cousin Lou is in the hay —

They say she knows how to play

The game of love, and her guitar with two strings broke

Out on the beach beneath a towel

They fall asleep until the howl

Of wind and wave wake them up and they catch the last commuter train

Her skinny days and her family

Have stripped her down for all to see

But her big mouth could drink them all like summer drinks the rain

She put her ring in her underwear drawer

While the world tumbled from war to war

There was a box full of gifts to be returned

She grew her garden, mostly wild

And walked for miles and raised her child

She kept her cool, but after midnight she burned

I told the tale.

I walked the line

In Michigan, into the pines

I made a camp, I built a fire, I loved myself

And skinny days have gained some weight

And wasting time keeps me up late

I’m sending you this book of pictures, for your shelf