Zooey

[rowens]

It's hard to find a poem of mine where I haven't said or done something awkward. And about warm salt, I was thinking of having warm defrosting salt or snow falling on and around me. Her rare ability to warm me on these faraway, cold nights. She makes me think of spring, bright, warm things; though she is pale with dark hair. Seemingly simply and silly, and movingly profound, at the same time. On the dark, cold nights in the rural south, my stomach full with the warmth of wine, and I put on her "She and Him: Volume One". By the time it gets to "Black Hole", I can't help but sing along, it's kind of silly and sad; and our accents mesh, and I'm drunk. Then, "Got Me", and it's a transcending experience, she's so good. The vibrations of her voice, I feel through my body. If I could write poetry as beautifully as she sings, I'd be a very confident man. I'm so glad that this woman is in this world. If I was on my deathbed, and she was there singing, "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot", I guarantee you God would exist, and I'd go to Heaven. I'd be drunk in some way or another. That's where this poem comes from.