I Used To Listen To Lana

I used to listen to Lana Sit on my bistro table Furnished apartment. The drunken couple screaming next door At themselves At each other Before he died of a heart attack I’ve travelled far from that table. Beautiful kitchen Lumpy couch Lonely mirrors Lonely sheets Forgot my Christmas tree in the cabinet but took everything else. The widow next door had to leave because she couldn’t pay the rent anymore So we were both gone And the apartments moved on and never will remember us. The place where I spent the loneliest nights of my life. Blackness Glasses of wine Chilly chilly California mountain freeze. I would imagine your motorcycle pulling up Oliver barking But prayed so hard you didn’t come. Have I ever truly moved on from these feelings? These flashbacks feel as if they happened just a moment ago. You looking at my eyes but past them You in the hospital, broken cheek bone Freezing, rubbing my hands by the space heater crying, just crying Thawing out steak Cooking beans because we had no money The smell of the first apartment- stale and beachy- with the air mattress across the door The time it snowed and I got sushi and ate it in my bed and watched movies in Spanish When we rode the bike to the outlets in Palm Springs and I didn’t care If we died,