We went back to where we began.

Where, over twenty years ago, we were characters in a Bob Dylan song.
They sat together in the park
As the evening sky grew dark
She looked at him and he felt a spark
Tingle to his bones‘
Twas then he felt alone
And wished he’d gone straight
And watched out for a simple twist of fate

We sat together in the park, on wet benches overlooking the skyline, sharing the same small sandwich from the same small shop we always went to back then. 

They walked along by the old canal
A little confused, I remember well
And stopped into a strange hotel
Where the neon burning bright
He felt the heat of the night
Hit him like a freight train
Moving with a simple twist of fate 

We walked along by my old house with the ghosts of our first dogs, until we could see the roofline and windows that once framed our awkward, sometimes searing waltz. 

People tell me it’s a sin
To know and feel too much within
I still believe she was my twin, but I lost the ring
She was born in spring, but I was born too late
Blame it on a simple twist of fate 

I thought she was the one when I randomly met her in a downtown bar after one of my shows, just before her spring birthday. I was born two years later than her, and I was young. So young, as to believe that my band’s opening set on a Friday night might offer, in a simple twist of fate, the one.  

But then life happened.

We went back to where we began.

Where, over 20 years ago, we were characters in a Bob Dylan song.

Where we stumbled toward and then past each other, into what we thought were the rest of our lives.

And where we collided now.

In a simple twist of fate.

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