Anthems, Mantras, and other borrowed words
“I’m singing at a funeral tomorrow
for a kid a year older than me,
and I’ve been talking to his dad
it makes me so sad when I think too much
about it I can’t breathe.
And I have this dream
where I’m screaming under water,
while my friends are waving from the shore
and I don’t need
you to tell me what that means
I don’t believe in that stuff anymore.”
Funeral by Phoebe Bridgers
Some other worlds are under water
and others are just under new stuff.
Some memories of ourselves are
out of focus,
and others are just difficult to see.
Many things are hard.
In part because of timing,
and armor we keep on
regardless of how many times
we’re told we’re safe.
Regardless of whether we’re safe,
whether or not we’re who we wear it for.
There are reasons, and stories,
and especially between friends.
Drawn in like pen outlined lyrics
on a gym floor,
or a weight room,
or a forearm,
or a leg
pretending this pen writing on it is a needle,
and this inked message important.
Skin tells stories anyway.
Not often happy ones.
Where the vision of shore keeps you going,
and the presence of water pulls you down,
and for how long?
The span of a phone call,
the length of a song,
the time it takes to drive to school,
the minutes between waking up
and opening your eyes.
The minutes after the last time you closed them.
as lips coat themselves
with enough wetness and pressure
to release a sound that builds to something.
Between the time of building,
and the moment of not finding the bridge.