Know what song is really, really good?

“Rocky Mountain High,” by John Denver.

EMPTY BED

sometimes the bed
is bigger than I can stand

I’ve spilled a cup of stains
a day over these sheets

I want to ask a question of the empty room
but it talks so loudly I can’t get a word in

so instead I’ve chewed the pillows
until I’m dried spitless and mute

I wake up at all hours with the same thought each time —
dream is one letter away from dread

write it all down, the therapist says
but even then I can’t keep it down

the bed gets bigger every day
its oak bones growing long after death

a dead man’s hair and nails
sleepwalk on beyond him

I scratch my face, tear out my hair
and never awaken at all

EMPTY BED

sometimes the bed
is bigger than I can stand

I’ve spilled a cup of stains
a day over these sheets

I want to ask a question of the empty room
but it talks so loudly I can’t get a word in

so instead I’ve chewed the pillows
until I’m dried spitless and mute

I wake up at all hours with the same thought each time —
dream is one letter away from dread

write it all down, the therapist says
but even then I can’t keep it down

the bed gets bigger every day
its oak bones growing long after death

a dead man’s hair and nails
sleepwalk on beyond him

I scratch my face, tear out my hair
and never awaken at all