Plumbing the unnamed eddies

It’s been a long year
I sit dry eyed, a little stunned
another month but I haven’t moved on
the whole world smells strange
like the negative space of you
which is nothing but true

I sit and I listen
on the edge of a worn-out bed
sustaining my escapee’s bolt
into pop music bliss
just one brightly coloured
beautifully rendered beaten
moment after another
affirming all the life left
in the world

except these few that create
complicated eddies that
I can’t help swirling into
over and over again
just to feel the something
to see if it can be named

this best one has lasted
six weeks
left alone I simulate
an emotional performance
but there’s no more tears
for this one

Still, I wonder why this song grabs my middle
makes it want to wobble and collapse:

oh, how I know what you mean, young man!
how could you talk this?
like you feel what I feel
without being who I am?

Because we’re all just the same
with different details

And those happy people: are they before?
Or am I going there later?

//ends