al666insongs

Another camp song! The instrumentals are dug’s “tough room,” and the bird noises are the noises of Shiloh, as I was recording outside. 

Canoeing Trip

Stale evening cigarettes
remind me of fourteen
and hoarded dry leaves
smoked quickly in secret.
The children are sleeping
and I, their failed keeper
distress over sex
and their bruised skinny necks
 
Do we let the kids suck skin and lips
and make their own mistakes?
Or do we break up make-out clubs
and encourage them to feel ashamed?

Truth or dare?
dare dare dare.
Truth or dare?
dare dare dare.
Truth or dare?
dare dare dare.
Truth or dare?
dare dare dare.
 
We let them play
the old summer camp games
but one or two of the group get frayed
their eyes look dulled aloof dismayed
The ones who cry too quietly
do not get our attention
‘til their thin dry breaths
run close to death
asthmatic shock induced by stress
over who is kissing whom.

The children are sleeping
and I, their failed keeper
am smoking away
what I can of my shame
their first kisses remain
memories flecked with distain
and who are we to blame
them for inducing such
natural adolescent pain?

The river runs shallow
the dry Shanendoa
as old as the mountains
It’s so cold in the morning

Do we let the kids suck skin and lips
and make their own mistakes?
When the counsellors were campers
we were just the same way
It’s the nature of the summer
and we turned out pretty okay

The river runs shallow
the dry Shanendoa
as old as the mountains
It’s so cold in the morning
The river runs shallow
the dry Shanendoa
as old as the mountains
It’s so cold in the morning
The river runs shallow
the dry Shanendoa
as old as the mountains
It’s so cold in the morning
The river runs shallow
the dry Shanendoa
as old as the mountains
It’s so cold in the morning
The river runs shallow
the dry Shanendoa
as old as the mountains
It’s so cold in the morning