There was the summer, summer’s capabilities, its size, how we forgot ourselves
in its demonstrations, square light over the stone walls, hands tied
to action all in the periphery
until we pulled them together like the flat wind that blew across the audience
and the swimming pool, the vast fields
and their downed machinery.
What have I brought to myself that I didn’t even see—
some nights a wet silence, some
a percentage remaining?
Every song plays right through its secret, through its last chance,
and we sit in our chemical radiance
bristling with effects, our set of reasons gone sweet and dear,
the river turned to gold, the gold in the late light,
all the rhymes in our mouths