Summer, and you protect your ears
Against the lawnmower's roar
With music.
Or, the snow.
Your iPod skips a song,
Landing on one you downloaded
Long ago. And have not
Listened to since.
And in that instant, you are
What you claim you can never be:
Two places at once.
As the music pours in,
As sweat pours out,
You are in your car.
Parked, in the snow.
The song playing
For your ears,
The very first time:
You need to go in.
You need to finish.
It is very cold.
It is getting late.
But you stay to write
But you stay to hear
Down that line you liked.
The chorus one last time
In both worlds, the music is
So clear. Though it's hard
To discern which smell it is
That permeates the air:
So clear. Though it's hard
To discern which smell it is
That permeates the air:
The fresh-cut grass
Or, the snow.
