to the Azores!

Brian.

you smell like you've played music
one too many times in a dingy warehouse

you taste like red wine that you've been
swigging from the bottle

you sound like a long and forgotten rant
that I'm still listening to

you feel like a map from early times
born clearly into the wrong era

you feel like an old oak tree in england
you've seen so many things

you feel like you can't distinguish
between our legs and arms intertwined

you feel one and nothing
at the same time.

Oh, Brian.