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werewolf
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perhaps it's that her lyrics and chords seem as effortless as when words give in and let the skin begin,
or that her voice is like stretching,
is thick with the shared air
of morning or late night saturday
with the moon behind the blinds,
and no anxiety for at least a day,
the cradle patched up
for the running length of the album,
before the calls and walls
start flooding in again.
and maybe it's that she opens
to bridges that could
go to that deep sea,
and plunge you in it,
because they dance around it,
the music changes
but it never takes you too far,
it just lets you be a kid again,
dipping your feet in the surface
and thinking your city
or even just this beach right now
is the world.
it doesn't give you the revelations
that other songs try to,
and maybe that is its revelation
it's the peace other songs
lament losing or are driving onto.
mainly it's about sex,
love, sex. you're young again,
in her parents house,
remember your friend who lives near her
let you sleep over,
so you could sneak out,
so her window could slide open,
and it seemed from both of them
a gift of life you all shared,
would return to either and all.
and listening to music softly,
tangled in blankets
and nothing has ever been warm
like this.
lying there listening to breathing
for the silence upstairs
as if for once,
silence is permission from god.
and if that moment had a music,
norah jones
would be there in your yearbook,
a friend who asked her excitedly
the next day in the playground
"well what happened"
aware of the pact all young people
in love, in spring
have
to share it all,
to give it all back.
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040405
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