Indiana Problem

We’re thinking of painting

the bedroom a color called

November Rain, which I

can’t discuss without

picturing Slash standing

at the top of a cliff after

the accident, still rocking

even though he’s dead

and has no electricity. I

don’t want to model

thinking or what memory

does. Mostly I just want

people to listen to me and

then maybe understand me

but I don’t even care that

much about being understood.

Underground the trees help

each other: even separate

species send messages to

roots smaller or stranger

than their own and in a way

they hold each other before

they plunge from their

underground cliffs, and all

we see are the clacking branches,

leaves trying again to grow, the music

inside all kinds of stuff that we’ll

get to one of these days.