I don’t know why it is
and I don’t think it will last long
but there’s a kind of twilight inside everything
when you’re near me
these days

Clouds have the mastery over our aims
and love’s ambitions
a way they have
of never quite being resolved
Some storm in the rear-view
Summer cirrus in the glove compartment
Stuff in the boot
Just some words we forgot to say
A dry place where the sea has retreated
and the wind stirs memories of your long hair
The days we believed would still be there
when we came back
The thanks we meant to give
The things we sacrificed for our careers

Nothing makes sense but words
seem to
The way you look at me as if
I already belong to your past
but kiss me as if it still matters
That’s you all over
Someone I let slip
like an indiscreet remark
into the forms of so many digital ghosts
Still the touch of warm fingers on photographs
caress back the hair which has whirled
across your eyes
half erasing your smile and your careworn face
The way yesterday has of still coming
and coming

Then the waves which have long since ceased to mean much
to me
rise again
bringing autumn in the steel the wrack
of forgotten storms
Fallen leaves blown along the track
in the wake of passing commuter trains
a parched agitation
The voice at the end of the line
when you ring a wrong number
A form of fatigue
Then they fall still
Days which have become almost translucent with suffering
Days we see through
Hello? No, I’m sorry, this is…

No, I don’t know why it is
and I can’t imagine it will last much longer
this feeling I have
when I think of you
of twilight in everything —
in everything, yes,
but especially the sun