Burning 1989

After the storm, turned my back on my lover
   till he sighed and left.


All the trees were born again as birches,
   baptized by the snow.


And I still look pretty reflected in water,
   or in a mirror in a darkened room,


As headlights make magic lights
   when you drive with your eyes almost closed.


Hey! I’m leaving blood tracks in the snow.
Here I am. Get out of my way.
Here I am, burning Buddha’s crown.
Better get out of my way.
Better get out of my way.