I'm trying really hard to remember
how I lost your number.
How I lost your name.
I find it really hard to explain.
In late September,
when I lost my summer,
nobody would take the blame.
I find it really hard to retain
the birch trees.
And the willows.
And the waxwings
through the windows.
The reflections
balance on the windowsill,
where you don't.
Where are you?
(In the morning
Where are you?
where I lay?
Where are you?
Evidently you have gone away.)
Where are you?
(In the evening
Where are you?
where I pray?
Where are you?)
Evidently nothing's here to stay,
but I'm trying really hard to remember
how I got this numb. And nothing but the bones remain.
I'm trying really hard to explain.
In late September,
my endless summer ended with the bedsheets stained.
And everything I knew became a duckling
out of water.
And the dead thing
on the shoulder
of the highway reaching into endless night,
where you don't.
Where are you?
(In the morning
Where are you?
where I lay?
Where are you?
Evidently you have gone away.)
Where are you?
In the evening
Where are you
where I pray?
Where are you?
Evidently nothing's here to stay.)
(We've all seen the way the ashes rise.
But out bodies have yet to realize.
Despite all our desperate pleas and cries,
we all know that everything dies.)
Where are you?
(In the morning
Where are you?
where I lay?
Where are you?
Evidently you have gone away.)
Where are you?
In the evening
Where are you
where I pray?
Where are you?
Evidently nothing's here to stay.)
So much for my endless summer.
So much for my endless summer.
So much for my endless summer.
So much for my end.
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