Second Edit: Wednesday Night Drunk

[Richard]

Second Edit:

Wednesday Night Drunk

For Gord Downie

If you didn't die yesterday,
my high school memories could have stayed dead.

With each glass I taste
the stale beer on her breath again
and smell her flicked cigarettes.
She wore Canadian flags in her hair,
her lips rougher because of my inexperience.
I had never heard of "Ahead By a Century"
before our first kiss.

I can't even remember what I said
when we broke up,
but that song is like an old friend,
who sounds better with each drink
and is still there when I wake up.

If you didn't die yesterday,
I wouldn't be hung over today.


First Edit:

Wednesday Night Drunk

For Gord Downie

I wouldn't be hung over today
if you didn't die yesterday.

High school memories resurrected
with each glass, until I can taste
the stale beer on her breath again
and smell her flicked cigarettes.
She wore Canadian flags in her hair,
her lips softer because of my inexperience.
I had never heard of "Ahead By a Century"
before our first kiss.

I can't even remember what I said
when we broke up,
but that song is like an old friend,
who sounds better with each drink
and is still there when I wake up.



Original:
Wednesday Night Drunk

For Gord Downie

I wouldn't be hung over today
if he didn't die yesterday.

High school memories are further now:
her breath tasting like stale beer,
also smelled of flicked cigarettes.
She wore Canadian flags in her hair,
her lips seemed smoother
because of my inexperience,
"Ahead by a Century" our narration.
I can't even remember her last name,
but that night the chorus move into my brain,
eager for new neighbors.

I never shook the man's hand,
wasn't even close enough for an autograph,
yet his voice, you, always soothed
like a friend, when needed the most.

The music left behind haunts a country
that mourns him just as much as you.