A remix with thanks to Chuck Mee, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy & Cheyenne Mize

Sometimes
I drive past your house
your apartment
the park where we went on walks
the bench where we sat
a tree
pockets
of fresh air
and breath deep.

I haven’t washed the pillowcase
or the sheets
since you left
and I wont.

This is how I survive.

And I remember the time
we were finishing our lunch in a garden
on a hill above Lyons.
It was in June or July and hot
and someone suggested that we take off all our clothes
and jump into the pond.

I could hear Andre saying
his girlfriend would be with us in just a minute
but his voice sounded muffled
through the shirt I already had over my head
and then,
in the end,
no one went in the water.

Andre fucked me first
slowly
and calmly
which was his way.
And then Paco came and took his place.

you say
‘the days are so long’
as the sun sets

we drove
thousands of miles
to get where we are

hold on
to both of my hands
as the sun sets

The sun collided with the moon today
I saw sparks land
on the horizon
somewhere over Idaho
forests burning on the mountain sides
cast shadows across my bed.

Mountains drift
and clouds take root.
The rain is coming.

The streets are open and empty *
sidewalks cracked and lonely
walking home in every direction
past Vine and Race and Williams street
where lamps cast shadows into trees.

Lights fade
Shadows fall
Stars are dying
Faster than I can count

At the pub on thursday
throwing darts into sand
you drink your whiskey with a straw
and hope to hell
the shadows will wash you away.

Mountains drift
and clouds take root.
The rain is coming.