Greg Brown: The poet game

Down by the river junior yearwalking with my girl,and we came upon a placethere in the tall grass where a couplehad been making loveand left the mark of their embrace.I said to her, "Looks like they had some fun."She said to me, "Let's do the same."and still I taste her kissesand her freckles in the sunwhen I play the poet game.A young man down in hill countryin the year of '22went to see his future bride.She lived in a rough old shackthat poverty blew through.She invited him inside.She'd been cooking, ashamed and feeling sad,she could only offer him bread and her name -Grandpa said that it was the best gifta fella ever hadand he taught me the poet game.I had a friend who drank too muchand played too much guitar -and we sure got along.Reel-to-reels rolled acrossthe country near and farwith letters poems and songs..but these days he don't talk to meand he won't tell me why.I miss him every time i say his name.I don't know what he's doingor why our friendship diedwhile we played the poet game.The fall rain was pounding downon an old New Hampshire milland the river wild and high.I was talking to her while leaves blew downlike a sudden chill -there was wildness in her eyes.We made love like we'd been waitingall of our lives for this -Strangers know no shame -But she had to leave at dawnand with a sticky farewell kissleft me to play the poet game.I watched my country turn intoa coast-to-coast strip malland I cried out in a song:if we could do all that in thirty years,then please tell me you all -why does good change take so long?Why does the color of your skinor who you choose to lovestill lead to such anger and pain?And why do I think it's any helpfor me to still dream ofplaying the poet game?Sirens wail above the fields -another soul gone down -another Sun about to rise.I've lost track of my mistakes,like birds they fly aroundand darken half of my skies.To all of those I've hurt -I pray you'll forgive me.I to you will freely do the same.so many things I didn't see,with my eyes turned inside,playing the poet game.I walk out at night to take a leakunderneath the stars -oh yeah that's the life for me.There's Orion and the Pleiadesand I guess that must be Mars -all as clear as we long to be.I've sung what I was given -some was bad and some was good.I never did know from where it cameand if I had it all to do againI am not sure I wouldplay the poet game.