it's a two-post kind of day

A bird flies out and over the rooftops
down past the cars in my line of view.
It's a strange beginning, comic and awkward grace.
In a picture, on the table
I'm in a red dress waiting for a reason
holding a tightly packed suitcase.
Maybe I'm too jaded to love somebody like you.
Maybe I want to love my dream that'll never come true.
Someone who is real, oh, gets in the way
and moves inside my heart, not just my head
interfering with how I want to feel.
How do I want to feel, I wonder?
You could be water to me, I could be wine.
The stars have all faded here
they give us no sign.
Is this the right time?
-The Weepies