(no subject)
does she remember how that second record sounded in the basement?
the rhythmic pop on the vinyl like some great celestial second hand
pounding out life, or like scattered reports from forgotten battles?
probably not. ask any traveler the truth at the end of the line:
there are some things too specific to survive the tides of time.
there are details i'd pay the moon to get back from
the flooded golden tombs of the past; there are stories
i wish i'd stored in songs or scars so they'd last.
when i'm called to account for it all i hope i know
the harmonies that bid back yesterday lest i be left
in front of a patient old man with nothing to say.
'til then i'll memorize the maps avoiding the turnpike
going back upstate & compose in the bravest saddest key.
i'll hear what i hear and see what i see and with
hope and faith and everything else i'll have an answer
that sounds okay for that grave universal question:
what did you do today?