I can’t remember—
this song.
How did it go?
One more time.
Slow or soft like Sunday, open pulsing organ? All packed up, ready to go.
Or running through city streets roaring
from airplanes, dragged for miles in a blue cab, and more miles hissing through cigarette smoke.
Crashing through pharmacy aisles
Sifting through naked roads, sidewalks and raindrops
falling, falling, falling.
Or screaming through twenty-two dollar speakers,
unrecognizable.
Broken ocean why can’t I hear your song anymore? Why won’t you cry for me?
Why can I not see your eyes?
Solitary station, 3am, you groan like you’re lonely for something. Are you?
Your music sounds sad, like crying.
One more time, just one more.
Play it again.
It was supposed to be our wedding song,
but now I can hardly hear it anymore.