Death of the Author

from by Meanagers (now Skirts)

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We started a Victorian coloring book
you played sad songs and "Strawberry Jam"
and when I had to leave you finished without me
and sent a text of the creation

The colors, faint but assertive
hit my heart like a landmine hiding under the moss
This gown that you created would've been foreign to anyone living in the 19th
century after century goes by as I sit
looking at you and your thin wrists
and neck oh what the heck I'm fucking sick of not
feeling like the protagonist
If I had a picture of this I would frame it
just to try to keep you inside
my memories, hastily assembled, like the breakfast
my mother's jam and your piece of toast

Now all I see of you are reflections
on my computer screen
and in my dreams I'm wearing your sweater
weather, ever better, I can't remember
the sound of your voice or of your socks
on the carpet, sliding around me, rubbing electrons
I wanna touch your finger so bad
Beside me is literary evidence of
the prologue on the sheets of your bed

credits

from Dream Journal, released July 2, 2013

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Meanagers (now Skirts) Rochester, New York

Films. Food. Good jokes. House parties. Books. Beer. Rock and roll. Email hford@u.rochester.

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