No one wants to know
How this particular story ends.
It starts with cotton fields in fall
Like clouds on endless red.
I sang "My Funny Valentine"
By the empty hosiery mill
And a full magnolia tree.
She told me about karma
At a restaurant that no longer exists
Where the only customers were us.
We went traipsing in our business suits
Through the dark woods of Uwharrie
To look for somewhere private
In the parks, by the streams, in a car,
And we'd drive as far as Whynot or Troy,
Where the only store for miles
Sold tackle and tied flies.
I have never been to that town again.
No more meeting halfway.
19 years later, I still can't shake the feeling
That is neither love nor hate, betrayal
Or complicity. Some towns hold their ghosts
As if they're still alive.
