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everyone is out.
to classes or working:
mary lane is empty
but for gabe and me.
the san diego sun
drowns our living room
in a lattice of beams.
i’ve chosen to cut class today
to listen to mellon collie
and the infinite sadness.
it will become the soundtrack
to the end of nineteen ninety five
and much of nineteen ninety six.
twenty six years ago:
we’re twenty one years old:
unencumbered and impetuous.
the introductory piano lines
an open door to twenty eight songs
running the gamut between
the sacred and profane.
jason will hate most of it and complained
loudly and often about corgan’s whiny voice
and the rat in a cage line.
never one to champion victimhood,
one assumes he felt the band
lacked integrity or grit.
knowing the job like obstacles
he had cleared even then,
i can see why he might
not respect a pasty bald narcissist.  
but not me- i crawled into those songs
and hid behind the wall of sound
treating each tune like a nest
in which to find shelter,
from which to jump.

gabe and i spent the whole
day with the songs:
in the yard, on the floor,
in his car, on walks to the taco place,
it was dark and night
when we finally powered off:

the sun shines but i don't
a silver rain will wash away
and you can't tell, it's just as well
goodnight, my love, to every hour in every day
goodnight, always, to all that's pure that's in your heart.

the songs
remain embedded
in the ventricles.
held in place
by the loose
tapestry of memory.