Tunguska - Cymbals Eat Guitars

I woke up in the late afternoon

From a dream in which I left you

And the ceiling teemed with gold surface tension

Skipping off my neighbor’s pool

A hiker’s ghost, a halo

Your face was resting damp on my chest

Fever clouded eyes

What’s next to my head

So of course you knew

You’d dreamed it too

I emerged as if through a narrowed eye

Into lashes of white sun

From your apartment

And pollen clouds

Held absent sound

Then a stream of revenants surged outward

Like prominences from the sun

1927, an explosion

Another Tunguska

And at once I was flat on my back

And my skateboard rolled on down the hill

And all the congregating deer

Stood stock still

In the corridor of Manicured lawns

Remember you and I would get so high

We’d pass out with our shoes on First light through leaves

This was back when my smoke would juke

And stutter in the highway crossbreeze