i miss your shadow on the wall these gray october mornings, all the candles have burned away their wicks, the windows swell shut in the rain in this house were we used to live, and there are echoes in the eaves that sound like you singing soft and low, this is your ghost in every photograph i have and these are the songs that play over and over...
these paving stones lie loose on top of the beach, the streets a narrow crosshatch of charcoal alleyways and cherub avenues, milky windows and the overcast clouds, the hush of the sea and the whisper of the wind, bare lanterns in the courtyard to the doorway, this love remains, memoired on all the locks with lover's names tethered to the gate, the stairs lead down, down, down and there is only the sound of us...
...back downstairs again, outside the night sky was clear and cutting through the thin fabric of this costume, but now the air is thick, licking at the seams, young girls in the corner breathing out plumes of malezas, crushed glasses at the intersection of the the floor and the walls, fruit rinds scattered on every surface, i see her run her sticky fingers through her hair, god this house is truly haunted, and of all the places to fall in love, i am a skeleton key, this dance floor is like a tomb...
strangemoss transmission from when i first migrated east, the ghost light constellation shone brightly, obscuring the view of the dark as the self-titled catapulted back in to my orbit...
five years ago the california sunshine came crashing through the cloudless sky, crowning the entire inland empire, as we drove eastbound in hollywood, windows down, shy sirens on the sidewalk as we breath out slow clouds of smoke, from the passenger seat the cement handprints are on the opposite side of the streets, aha shake heartbreak on repeat, singing songs that would echo throughout the coming years when i found her again...
come around sundown around sundown, looking west, where she still stays, thinking about time and words on the page, trying to remember what she smelled like, her papercraft silhouette remains in my heart, and i remain triumphant but the tears are so close at hand, betrayed by these memeories i have...
cassette came in the mail yesterday, the postmark from los angeles, two years of changing addresses in faded labels across the envelope, not so long ago i was living on the california coast, tending dusty roses on telegraph avenue, played the a side and the sweat of cavernous clubs in west hollywood comes back to me but i lost the remainder of the songs after a phone call and the auto-reverse, found the tape thrown across the bedside table this morning, on the one side was written an apology, on the other, just the words "everything she ever wanted is buried beneath the streets of le brea"...
i turn the faucet off and i hear her on the other side of the door, singing softly, as the words "i love you" materialize on the fogged mirror in echoes of condensation, balam acab releases soap bubble bass notes that burst in their rise to the ceiling, this aura of steam suspends the ambient synths in a whitewash mist, and to her songbird lilt, i slip my head below the epsom bathwater and hold my breath in silence, eyes open, looking up from the bottom of the sea, door after door in the hallway, her cut chandeliers i am trying to claim, this claw foot bathtub big enough for two...
a clear october night, slow burn from the city skyline reflected in the blind windows, silt in the tinge as the stories descend, matt and kim setting up below the brownstone fire escape, extension cords and tumbled drums, light back and forth as the chinese lanterns turn on in their powerline overkill, concrete pylons tumble under the toll roads that run down the block, lawnmowers in the distance as the sisters from 4-e take scissors to each others hair, pinning fabric to each others t-shirts, the final remains of the day placing bruise purple and royal blue medals to it's heart, exhaust fumes and hairspray residue are all a waste of my tears when she isn't here, no i can't see in the dark anymore, i use street lamps like sign posts, the neighborhood goes quiet except for the birds in the tree branches, four or five cars pull up and open their doors, all these friends i have, all the messages sent, her absence means the most as the mics go live and "lightspeed" comes in...
made an awning in the backyard from my old bedsheets, the ones with the stars i found yesterday in the closet, lying in the grass in opposite directions with our heads together, tracing the sun in it's chariot as the shadows sketch themselves farther away from their center, debating the shades of blue and the shapes of clouds, castles and cliffs and tributaries, purple sprite in plastic cups, cymbal washes and crescendos like honest skylights, climbing and climbing and climbing, you take my hand, i take another drink, this is the life we should be living...
dreading sunday, and its sunset, and the early bedtime for the early early week, these saturdays go by, and it is quiet and it is calm and she will never know another thing about me, except that i see her when i sleep...
stayed awake 21 hours straight but phantogram absolutely killed it last night at the loft, opener josiah wolf complemented the warm wind out on the balcony, the simple guitar gentle against the wall, staring at the south dallas skyline, the artificial sun and the neon state outline, trying different filters and lenses as the heartbreak became clearer as the vocals and my vison arched around the corners, nobody has a photographic memory, its just something people tell each other...
i fell asleep too early, i missed your call...
i had to leave suddenly, your letter never came...
i followed you west, the ocean is always the last exit...
i took this chance to write to you...
it is the first chance in a long time...
autumn tumbles in and i am ready for the world, been hitting the books, hitting the beds and playing off the bench. all i know is i wake before the sun rises and i know that she sees the same sky hours later in her pacific past. the sounds from the speaker will reach her in time. i just have to find the right note.
