David

David used to be creative,

seeing screens in all our faces,

talking like a kid Scorcese,

making films of kids and pavement.

Summer’d always come around,

we’d talk about our dreams

we’d talk about the way that running

But I’m not sayin’ I’m the man

to write you a letter

anonymous

tonight

turnin’ tables to shield you from our guns.

Some things flutter out of focus.

David’s changing frame by frame,

hoping Eloise will notice,

but the film’s dissolving into grain.

David used to be creative

now he’s trading pills and papers,

hanging out at burn out stables,

coming down half Cain, half Abel.

Eloise, she broke his heart,

she moved to Tennessee,

she moved to somewhere where the climate

won’t give way to more regression.

Now I’m lying in the backyard

with my feet in the air,

and I’m thinking about David

but I just can’t seem to care.

Now David he’s been dying,

he’s been drinking alone.

Well I’m not quite the friend

you thought I was all along.