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I come home to tell you where I went that year
when I left you while you were showering, left no note.
When I came back you were in your armchair with a beer.

You hadn’t ever seen me with a beard.
I didn’t know whether to take off my coat.
I’d just come to tell you where I went that year.

I said hello loud enough so you could hear.
I thought you’d ask me why I never wrote.
You just sat in your armchair and offered me a beer.

Now every time I make my way back here,
The words wait like a marble in my throat.
I want to tell you where I went that year.

But now even to me it is unclear-
all I remember well is that deer on the side of the road.
So I just watch you in your armchair with your beer.

Sometimes when I’m home you talk about the pier,
how you used to take me out in your old boat.
When I came home to tell you where I went that year,
you just sat there in your armchair with a beer.