that absence hangs around,
a lone note held –
b-flat drifting long after
the tables have emptied
a blind man would have known
to find a way away from you
but fire makes us stupid
and before this space was vacant
it. was. on. fire.
things are so much clearer
when seen in d minor –
it’s a particular diminished
shade of the blues
but the show’s over even if
the smoke still lingers
and there’s no flyer even
to remember it by
but darlin’, there’s no
forgetting that heat
ebbtide 