Red Tide

Theres a smell here that stands my hairs on end

Dog hair in the heater, gas pumps and cedar

And jackknifes on the nine

and seabirds choked on fishing lineClouds say hush but the chainsaws mush on to Custer and Columbia

Salty tentacles shrink in the sun but the red tide is over

The mollusks they have wonTheres a smell here of gravel and cigarettes lit

When the match made them sweet

When the engine turned over and beat up our street

Oh, that was the day

To rememberI remember because of the fires that leapt

From the caves of the things that have not happened yet

When I think of it now they smell to me quite sinisterI want to go back and die at the drive in

Die before strangers can say

I hate the rain

I hate the rain