Not Every Garden Is Eden

On the rush hour train going west towards Canaan 
It took me a minute to find my reflection 
’Til I saw I’d grown into my own apprehension 
Careworn against the immaculate morning 

Two strangers discussed who’d take the window seat 
He was reading about detective suicides in the police beat 
And she was a child 
Wearing a shirt saying “I am the hope, I am the dream” 
And I was fresh off a night 
Left me with runs in my tights 
And desire thick like grenadine 

I walked down cobblestone 
Stoking the flames of recollection 
Against the backs of leather jackets 
Oh I surrendered to each suggestion of you 
You said you’re still learning discipline 
Will you teach me once you do? 

Cologne ads on billboards 
Lines wrapped around trendy stores 
Art replications posted on gallery doors 
Shopping bags and tourist traps 
String-light snow flakes on streetlamps 
Oh Canaan 
Lust laden garden 
You know I’d like to think so 
Not every garden is Eden 

There’s a bookstore round the corner 
I once wandered to in the summer 
When I was still garnering my freedom 
When I was still too young a lover 
Since then I’ve offered of myself 
More than I was ready to give away 
I let on too much 
More than I’d like to display 

I’ve fallen for Jazzmen 
With smooth guitars and old souls 
And I fell for a couple of those 
Silver tongued intellectuals 
Deep in reverie 
I found a false sense of intimacy 
Promiscuity, loving nobody 
I thought that would be release