In mid April the evening is an eternal air
Sometimes I can feel you there
Wresting me halfway in mock spring tide
Wresting me back by my locks at my side
I still see you standing in a motted bitter blue
My spartan dying warrior with a spear straight through
And even though I’m facing southward
I can’t help but look at you

Like Picasso you must’ve been born dead
You’re standing still in tableau contrapposto
I stand squinting through an endless April snow
Still dreaming of the acid blue that you call home
And even though I’m facing southward
I can’t help but look for you
You’re graven in the April violence

Just the way you always do,
You’re wading through a fit of silence
Standing in the April blue