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Andrew Cedermark
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Memories, Ah!
The falling leaves pass by my train window
in reams of dead old red and gold. Will the
getting there then cure me of the sunburned
hand that I used to hold?
Once where there was a bed, we would lay in it;
Once where there was food, we would eat it.
And in having what we needed we forgot how
it's supposed to hurt to love
So Sunburned Hand, come on, that's how you
know that it's working: If you're not hurting,
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then you'll know it's not working
I miss you most of all, my darling, when
I can see the autumn leaves start to fall. I miss
you most of all my darling when I can feel the
autumn leaves start to fall
Meanwhile memories of 'my darling' become
acid-damaged negatives of memories of memories
of memories of memories, ah!
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