turn home from bars and weaving closets full of stuttered turns when pedals redden roads we d pass through farms the orchards are aligned it looks too slow as we lay against the floor the green fury becomes a monument slips off the road and new years become new lines we didn t see the lights against the sky we didn t see we were too far up the road it s how canadians must feel everything they see is real my palms were made to match my eyes it s how canadians watch days in a million different ways and i am for the northern side watch the signs turn into lines