Same Song You know I’ve been thinking about you all day long, and I just don’t know how I will get along. The thought won’t sit. It paces. It wears a hole in the afternoon and calls it evening. I poured something on it. It grew. Maybe you should just come over here and do me. Not later. Not clean. Not when I’ve got a better sentence. Come over here while the room is still arguing with the furniture and help me find Babylon and nirvana all in the one night long and the same song. Both. I want both. I don’t want the sermon and I don’t want the cure. I want the city that eats itself and the quiet that comes after your mouth shuts me up. Same night. Same song. Don’t split them. Don’t make me choose like I’ve got a balanced mind left to choose with. I’ve been carrying you around since morning like a lit match in a coat pocket. Work didn’t get it out. The walk didn’t get it out. The first drink just gave it a microphone. Now it’s ranting. Now it’s me. Come over Come over before I turn the wanting into a religion Do me like a door that finally gives Babylon in the hallway, nirvana in the after One night long Same song Don’t fix me, just arrive I don’t know how I get along if you don’t. That’s the desperate part. That’s the part I hate saying and I’m saying it anyway because the glass is empty and the hour is slanted and my hands are doing that little shake that means tell the truth or fall over. So. Truth. I have been thinking about you all day long. The day noticed. The day is tired of me. Maybe you should just come over here. Take the coat. Take the rant. Take the part of me that keeps starting the sentence over like the lock won’t catch. Do me until Babylon shows up, loud and gold and wrong, and stay until nirvana gets a word in, quiet, wrecked, breathing on my neck like it paid rent. I can be the sin and the silence. You can be the reason the song doesn’t end when the bottle does. One night. Same song. Play it crooked. Play it till the room stops spinning or starts spinning our way. If you don’t come, I’ll still be here talking to the dark like it owes me an answer. If you do come, shut me up the old way. Hands. Mouth. The whole stupid holy mess. Babylon. Nirvana. All in the one night long. And the same song. And the same song.
