Don’t change the radio station

First we lose them, then we lose ourselves.

Past the church and somehow we’re getting lost

between bodies which tickle our feet even though

they’re wrapped up tightly in sheets.

We call out for the other friend, the one who

didn’t die and she leads us into another

moment.

We scream as people tarnish memories.

We want everything left exactly as it was.

We lose ourselves because we’re

stupid enough to jump.

There are a lot of us now:different lives

built around a scrapbook.

He sews up our airways but it is

a slow death. We wait and we pretend

to have passed already.

We don’t want him to come back to check.

We lose them again and again

but we only lose ourselves once.

 

 

 

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3 thoughts on “Don’t change the radio station

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