I took a worn out strand of your cellophane hair
and stretched it sideways,
and oh my, my, slip though between the seam with me.
My brain stopped working from the cold,
I sort of strayed from what we know.
So I’ll be like you and do what’s right
and win a love I don’t deserve out on the ice tonight.
Teach me the bluest song you know.
The moon ain’t comin’ up and I swear to God tonight it feels like snow.
I’m glad we got your hands warm so my arms can feel like trust again.
I can promise true waves when the summer comes.
The world still fits the same form we engraved when it all began.
Maybe catch a new wave.
Feels right, feels right.
So we ride whales and drag race time
and I draw fires from the traces of trilobite hives.
You sleep like God inside her womb.
And you see clearly to the silicon wasteland they left inside my mind.
I’m glad we got your hands warm so my arms can feel like trust again.
I can promise true waves when the summer comes.
The world still fits the same form we engraved when it all began.
Maybe catch a new wave.
We’ve lost the road now, injecting charms
and we care for all of ours.
We stand in rows now,
transfer alarms just like the Inuit with the promise song,
to come down and see.
To come down and see.
To come down and see.
To come down and see.
(Your solvents frozen here on the petal rung is all we have to see,
enlarged inside as we espy the warming sea.)
(Your breath diffused and never realized,
aside from where the panicked hide,
and I, just a subtle lift provider on the other side.)