if I could be someone else- by Steve Parker

Stop by Heather Brager

                                                        if I could be someone else –
                                                        only last night in the little house
                                                        surrounded by ice
                                                        the radio began
                                                        and it ran and ran
                                                        with a story of a man
                                                        whose mother died when he was so young
                                                        that later his heart exploded while he was driving
                                                        on the way to an interview
                                                        where he could have become an adult

                                                        he never made it there
                                                        just everything blew up
                                                        across the road
                                                        at 9am all his heart coming down like rain
                                                        settling out like sad music
                                                        high trees on either side
                                                        like tall people watching
                                                        all of them grieving and concerned
                                                        their grief reaching like long dark hands

                                                        such was the moment and the shutters blowing
                                                        in a sudden wind that came in from the East
                                                        his car stopped waiting
                                                        wondering what might happen now
                                                        all of him just spread there like a soldier
                                                        who never got that far
                                                        just an exploded star
                                                        that came from afar

                                                        such are the messages from life and the sky
                                                        for one small human
                                                        that drove too high
                                                        I have made dreadful mistakes
                                                        and my heart fearful aches
                                                        to watch the outtakes
                                                        who doesn’t wish

                                                        there was a god down the road
                                                        while he made human cakes
                                                        for all our sakes?

                                                        and the music comes in
                                                        and it is striding and mournful
                                                        like a little angry god
                                                        with a hole in his head
                                                        where the seasons went
                                                        and where at times he would gather himself
                                                        and wish as hard as he could
                                                        that things had been made better

                                                        we are incrementally composed
                                                        of all the people and things
                                                        we have ever loved and hated
                                                        this is soft Politics
                                                        and every time is morning
                                                        washing up on the long beach
                                                        like a lover’s hair in your dead hands
                                                        and her not yet ready
                                                        to ease them out
                                                        just lying like that
                                                        listening to the waves
                                                        neither of you moving
                                                        one that can’t now
                                                        one that wants to lie forever
                                                        not moving in case something changes
                                                        this is how it will be
                                                        when your heart finally hits your head
                                                        whoever you are I want you there
                                                        to do that like one big word

                                                        gasping in the quiet morning all over me
                                                        loving this sandy death
                                                        that came in at last from the radio

                                                        the only question ever
                                                        is how to love (d*))000£

                                                        Steve Parker

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