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|The Weakerthans – (manifest)
I want to call requests through heating-vents,
and hear them answered with a whisper, “No.”
to crack the code of muscle, slacken, tense,
let every second step in boots on snow
complete your name with accents I can’t place,
that stumble where the syllables combine.
Take depositions from a stranger’s face.
Paint every insignificance a sign.
So tell me nothing matters, less or more,
say, “Whatever we think actions are,
we’ll never know what anything was for.”
If “Near is just as far away as far,”
and I’m permitted one act I can save,
I choose to sit here next to you and wave.