Peaks of Wreck

Tin can it is, a beaten French car
has carried me elsewhere;
Has taken me far enough away
And with April over her shoulder
I peer out to peaks of the wreck
Unsubmerged, at least for a moment.
I get back in - not to let it slip again.
When comes the end?
Is it imminent, now that we're older?

Simultaneously, I am the worst and the best
Do you ever wish like I wish?
For fear we are deciduous

The mush and the pulp of your best decade becomes the surface of a moon
You're forever pointing at.
A betting slip, marked and crossed is lost; a Dog without a rabbit in its jaws.
I'm sure I've seen, I swear I saw the peaks of wreck about which I talk and talk.
Now it all feels like it's borrowed.

I've got to get back to Salzburg,
Better see if that place still looks the same.
I listened to 'Drop' over and over, coming in low, to Pisa Int. on the night plane.
Hanging on every word of 'Dreamt For Lightyears in the Belly of the Mountain', I was dreaming of you in the belly of the baggage claim.
I've still got to listen to 'And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out', Yeah, that's some seminal Yo La Tengo.
Don't forget about American Water, people say that's worth picking up, worth putting on, worth giving a go. But who really listens anymore?
I mean, have I ever really listened at all?
I want to drive down through the Dolomites, photograph an albatross in flight - tell someone I listened to 'Ghosts of the Great Highway' even though I didn't.
There are too many ways to do nothing, to just sit and wait.
I panic about a botched job, sitting opposite a butcher's shop and I wonder...
Is it really worth the trouble?