What Will Be Yesterday’s Night...

What Will Be Yesterday’s Night Tomorrow in Jeremy’s Room

This night, like his leaky gutter, is dripping away
And soon yesterday will be the only thing remaining.
The smell of my hand intensifies the way I feel
And the rain is getting louder without falling any harder
And all I taste is my burned tongue.

The poster on the wall reminds me of Dale D’acry
And the Ritz Carlton in Cleveland-
that was the last place we went
And the whole time I knew it would be but he didn’t.

I’m sitting in a swivel chair avoiding looking at the wall
And I am trying to not remember the card
That had hand-written inside ‘Jag ?lska du’.
He didn’t mean it- he just had no one else to tell
And now the rain of his memory has soaked me through
Leaving me colder than my heart for him.

I’m thinking now the only place my head belongs
Is in a colander where all of his remainders
Can drip through the holes and down the drain
But then my skull would only hold empty space.

Maybe soon, when it stops dripping,
I’ll just forget him naturally
For he is far-past ripe, that spoiled boy
Who thinks he sees a feeling but I see ghosts
And really that means nothing to see is there.

Now, my little chair, tell me to stop thinking of him
And of everything but the rain and let me drip
Right through tonight and settle into tomorrow.