THE DAY LOU REED DIED
It's not like his songs are going to simply
evaporate
but since the news I can't stop
listening to him
on endless shuffle - familiar, yes, inside
me, yes, which means
I'm alive, or was, depending on when
you read this. Now
a song called Sad
Song, the last one on Berlin,
sung now from the other side, just talk,
really, at the beginning, then
the promise
or threat, I'm gonna stop wasting
my time, but what else
are we made of, especially now? A chorus
sings sad song sad song sad song sad
song. I
knew him better than I new my own
father, which means
through these songs, which means
not at all, They died on the same day, O
what a perfect day, maybe
at the same moment, maybe
both their bodies are laid out now in
the freezer, maybe side by side, maybe
holding hands, waiting
for the fire or the earth or the man
or the salt -
If I could I'd let the birds devour whatever's left
& carry them into the sky, but all I can do
it seems
is lie on the couch & shiver, pull a coat
over my body as if it were all I had, as if I
the one sleeping outside, as if it were my
body something was leaving, rising up
from inside me
& the coat could hold it inside
maybe a little longer.
–- Nick Flynn
Published in The New Yorker, Nov.25,2013
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THE DAY LOU REED DIED It's not like his songs are going to simply evaporate but since the news I can't stop listening to him on endless shuffle - familiar, yes, inside me, yes, which means I'm alive, or was, depending on when you read this. Now a song called Sad Song, the last one on Berlin, sung now from the other side, just talk, really, at the beginning, then the promise or threat, I'm gonna stop wasting my time, but what else are we made of, especially now? A chorus sings sad song sad song sad song sad song. I knew him better than I new my own father, which means through these songs, which means not at all, They died on the same day, O what a perfect day, maybe at the same moment, maybe both their bodies are laid out now in the freezer, maybe side by side, maybe holding hands, waiting for the fire or the earth or the man or the salt - If I could I'd let the birds devour whatever's left & carry them into the sky, but all I can do it seems is lie on the couch & shiver, pull a coat over my body as if it were all I had, as if I the one sleeping outside, as if it were my body something was leaving, rising up from inside me & the coat could hold it inside maybe a little longer. –- Nick Flynn Published in The New Yorker, Nov.25,2013