Indian Summer

Indian Summer

 

Indian summer tricks a clever heart, that’s why I told you.

Maybe, baby, everything you read about me is true. 

I paint you modern daily, 

make you coffee when you want it;

you’re not happy.

 

I pot your plants, pull your weeds;

complications come in threes.

It’s mathematic,

-atic, App-Appomattox. 

 

I just wanted to write you something good

I just wanted to write you something good

 

Helium bursts a healthy lung, that’s why I told you.

Lately there are ghosts up on this stage all around me.

Intertwined, arms and legs,

kind of kamasutra.

And the red pox: fold the blankets.

Come then, now.

Now then, slow delivery.

Botulism. Botulism.

 

I just wanted to write you something good

I just wanted to write you something good

I just wanted to write you something good

 

Rock-and-roll cheats your wise man’s tongue, that’s why I told you.

Paris, London, Rome, Berlin;

Beijing, China; Kabul, Afghanistan … 

All the ESP receptors in the Lower East Village sewers,

they are listening carefully, listening carefully.

 

I just wanted to write you something good

I just wanted to write you something good

I just wanted to write you something good

I just wanted to write you something good

I just wanted to write you something good (something good)

I just wanted to write you something good

 

(Life Underwater Music, 2002)

James O'Brien