Out of the Blue, Into the Blackhttps://i0.wp.com/barrenmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/01/smichale-eyes-in-the-sky.jpg?fit=1920%2C1015&ssl=119201015Josh JosephJosh Josephhttps://i0.wp.com/barrenmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/joshjoseph.png?fit=96%2C96&ssl=1
-from Neil Young’s “My My, Hey Hey (Out Of The Blue)”
The kids were killing themselves that summer.
Parents were pointing every direction
but inwards. The ceiling, I remember,
was peeling salmon-colored flakes above our heads.
Dogs whistled in the night when we walked past.
We closed our eyes on couches.
We closed our eyes in fields.
Smoked weed out of apples, then ate the apples.
Counted the sneakers tied to telephone wires,
and guessed who they belonged to.
Everything was in place but our lives.
Everything whole except our homes.