The new year smells suspiciously like the old. We need new counters tonight. Ears all but dead to confessions re-read--the prayers, the players, the plight. In the heart of winter we carpet the walls. Shut down the blinds, but the calls beam down from the scattershot stars, as lonely as satellites are. It’s Dayquil and Nyquil and vitamin C. This fever refuses to break. The mercury’s red. Let’s cut off the meds. Look lively. We’re testing the brakes. In the heart of winter The Pageant’s on tour, without a day off and unsure, in the cold of their stuttering cars. The tender old pirates we are. In the green of the gas station light, monoxide pours out in the night. Breadcrumbs lost in the snow, oh my God, here we go. Lost in the shivering pines, Midwest to Caroline. The beer and the sweat start to freeze. There’s no draw, no guarantee. Kids, you can take it from me. Half a tank, half a pack, it’s good to be back in the town that you curse half the time. It’s no sellout to smile and stay for a while in the arms of a misguided rhyme. In the heart of winter the café lights shine and the tales of the travels rewind. And we laugh off our battleground scars, as lucky as satellites are.