Autumn Music
is the music that makes you feel
the ache you feel when you are
awake enough to realize that
everything good, by necessity,
dies, that there are lies to fall
in love with and seconds that
are perfect because they pass.
Autumn music is all orange and
red guitars and brown bass drums
and wicked lyrics that twist you
around, that sound like a sneer
and feel like a smile and make
you believe that your life is
sexiest at the edges, on the end
of your fingertips, in the tiny
electricity of a twitch. Autumn
music makes the claim that
your life is a flame that burns
to make you happy as it burns
to burn you down because any
other outcome would leave you
meaningless, would lose itself
in time, would fail to cut deep
enough to make an impression,
leave a scar, but one really good
lick, one really good line about
our distances closing, our love
of our own tempting horizons
becoming compressed into stone,
into thick air, immediate and
hard, something to scratch your
knuckles on: smoke and cold
denim, the crunch of dead leaves,
green-grey eyes, bourbon, saliva.
One song that wails all of this
and hits you in the stomach with
a wish, and I'm wrapped in primal
drumming, a heartbeat, a tap
on a lover's shoulder, the world,
and I can only pray for the good
sense to stay here, clutching at
the earth, split open, pressed
against a deep and crumbling love.
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