Listen.

Can't you hear the creak of the floorboards?
Can't you hear the faint call of a name?

The house still thinks you're there;
The rooms still think you're breathing.

Listen.

Can't you hear the crunch of the frost coated grass?
Can't you hear the turn of the engine?
(Roaring to life)

The earth still thinks you step there.
The car still thinks you drive there.

Feel it?

Can't you feel the sweat building up between tightly grasped hands?
Can't you feel the head so gently laid upon your arm?

The hands still think you're coming back--
The heart still thinks you're beating together.

The image of you and her dancing barefoot throughout the house still flashes.
The sound of you and her whispers still linger.
The feeling of you and her still in love is there.

Remember?

The sound of the radio still statics in and out.
The feeling of warm love still beats inside.
The sight of a smile and laughter still is engraved in the mind.

Remember?

You and her together.
You and her forever.

Remember?

She remembers.
She still sees you dancing through the house.
She still hears you whispering love melodies.
She still feels you there with her,
Lingering, tingling, staying forever--
Haunting her.

The dog is nine years
three months
six days old
and still counting,
the old man sits and counts up in
a chair rocking on an old porch,
creaking floorboards faded wooden again
from turquoise,
turning raw in their old age.
Parts of the floorboard have chipped away beneath
the chairs wasted slats
and yet the old man still sits, counting
down
time
like a train whistling at a
trespasser on the tracks
like a stray hair curling from
it's braid
get off those tracks
'cause you know it's not your place.
All we ever do is rot back down to
the floors we came from
and maybe
all we end up doing is completing a week
and then we're not counting anymore,
and maybe
the chair doesn't rock back to dust
and forth to
nine years
three months
and six days old
and we sit on our old porches
watching the train tracks and
maybe we know it's not the
time or the place
but a train whistles at the
trespasser
and we watch the young girl
and we count down, looking away
when it happens.
But we're not counting any more
and we sink into the porches we came from.

And when I lay dying on floorboards
Totems planked like Tetris
I, liver, gut, blood
Cried my psyche spare me
We all glow like embers
When we start to burn from the inside

And when I lay dying on floorboards
What did we talk about?
Lazarus, you black angel
Why do you linger so
Painful on the edge
Of death and the veil?

Talk to me
It’s just me, it’s just me
It’s just me, it’s just me
And all the awful things you say
It’s just me
It’s just me
It’s just me
It's just me