Lux Aeterna

2023
Twelve thirty across the Pacific is not the same.
Words whirlwinding, divorced from my window seat
As trunks shuffle on and off, grating and screaming.
There are so many people in this city, and where
Do they all come from.

It’s the train again, but you’re in the seat next to mine
Or a cafe, right across. Three cameras all useless
Exposed to you, beacon on the road, but I can
See you perfectly despite the light. To think I
Had forgotten my lenses in my suitcase too.
I’ve seen this before, brief glimpses of pictures
On gallery walls. Begrudged images, though
I couldn’t capture them.

Duty to complete, dying when it’s done
And you’re already curating your funeral playlist?
Kennedy never got to listen to Mozart as they
Set his memory ablaze. Perhaps I’ll find myself
Across the sea, abroad, but here I spend time with
The bay and some vinyl records, finding instead
That I’m rooted in all that has preceded me.

And your ears were always so astute.
Don’t think I can forget their shape, despite
The grain on that photograph. I’ve tried
To describe it, pointing to each speck of
Dust on the negative, but they’ve already
Shifted the reel. More interested
In those travelogues.

Have this habit of listening to songs
Until they sound like static. I’m trying
To reconstruct that melody I said
I’d play. It sounded pretty then. Think
It would sound pretty soon.