the buildings above us lit up

glowing like an ambiguous signal a colorful beacon

that showed just where we are

music insistent as a celebratory warning

beneath the beat we gathered

this year like every year but especially this year

it felt existential

even though it was not a farmers market day

and those days have been the days

I see you everywhere beautiful haunt

the bits of my heart that fell in tears

glittered with such bright shining love

that people placed them as jewels

in each other’s hair and clothing

I heard you laugh and there you were

disappearing just past the color’s fade

once again the sky clouded over and I find myself

bent under the hot metal hood of a broken down truck

changing the oil for the second time today

just to get home from the waster job

the only one available in this broken down town

we had a Main Street filled with stores once

with factories and shipyards near the river

but that was before I was born when gas stations sold gas

not a little bit of everything including sex, salts, and lottery tickets

I’ve seen some faded photographs but they’re ragged and torn

things were bad back then for most the same as now I suspect

it sounds better but doesn’t it always

ain’t no back in the day for me or anyone like me

the day is just the day is just a day