An Idea for a Song

I thought of an idea for a song
That put me back in a
Small house
Across from the infinite desert.
I'm always in that house and
Its narrow hallways,
Tiled counters,
Always on that sacred ride
In its open carport by
The saturated, scorpion filled canals against
The new school down the street.
That's the song I wanted to compose,
But it kept bleeding into the
Mounds of pool dirt and that
Nameless girl who told me
Something I didn't want to know.
The house resists a melody,
Pushes me away,
As if to say I should look elsewhere.
And on that cold Thanksgiving morning,
Pedaling through the empty neighborhood,
Carrying something,
And getting one of those shivery
Moment feelings
On the back of your neck
And the awareness that it will be important
One day.
So I let the tune go,
Just as I am letting all those aspirations fall away.
A part of me is still on that street
But I just can't get it
And so I release the song and its premise.

© Poem Fix 2012

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