The difference between them
is that the United States
is a density of data
and there are many ways to parse it
into patterns. Everyone
defends their own interpretation
to the death and beyond, while
each constellation
is a paucity of data;
we share interpretations
of them; no one ever dies about
whether we call it Orion
or not. Also, everyone
looks up to the constellations.
They were quietly getting it on
in the last row
and we all knew it,
but we thought back to when
we got it on in the trailer
with friends “sleeping” three feet away,
or when we held our breath in the closet
as we sat in there clutching each other
when a parent came home early from work,
or how we lay together so still in the bushes
hoping no one would miss us from the party
for very long,
then turned our faces away
and tried to handle our own business
without letting on that we knew.
Grappled all night
with nostalgia
until I was too tired
to get away,
so I called out
radio, help:
play “Walk, Don’t Run.”
Play “Rebel Rouser’ ”
or “Pipeline.”
Songs of movement,
no lyric clutter, good beat
plus a pure skin-crawling sense
that what once was
must still be out there;
that’s what I need to have.
I don’t much care
for the music of my youth.
It was mostly lies.
I don’t love it much unless
I need to grow teeth
and gnaw my leg off
to escape
from some bloody crush
of the jaws of time,
and it hurts,
it hurts
but it’s sometimes
is all that there is
so when it happens
Telstar me,
Sleepwalk me,
Rumble me,
Wipeout me;
my longing for those songs
means I’m trapped and they
are the only way out.
Dark Matter 