Name Like a Planet

from Perfect Sleeping Weather by Larry Fulford

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Scrawled into notebooks from the familiar comforts of temporary homes and the passenger seats of mechanically unsound vehicles adrift on the highways and back roads of America, Perfect Sleeping Weather is fifteen years of thoughts, observations, facts, and fictions hammered into a collection of poetry that, according to one reader, "sounds like a sigh."

In this, his first book, writer/drummer/comedian Larry Fulford reflects on the usual -- life, death, love and leaving -- while still managing to name-check Van Halen. Twice.

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lyrics

She had a name like a planet
knee-deep in January snow,
on the side of a mountain overlooking
mountains that were not as tall.
The shoestring in her left boot
was two shoestrings tied together.
Every now and then she’d look around like she
could hear something I couldn’t.

Drinking what used to be hot tea
from her dad’s Army canteen,
her eyes would close
as if to burn memories of this day
onto the backs of her eyelids
to enjoy whenever she wanted.

I let her grab my wrists and throw me against
a bank of leaf-less branches
almost completely hidden by snow.
The sunset lasted half a conversation
about how pollution is responsible for
the colors in the sky.

Tomorrow this will be part of our pasts
and it will feel good to burn
under that magnifying glass
which inspects each detail of every movement
and crack of callused lips
on canteens in the mountains.

She was famous just for me,
hibernating in a broken heart
but not afraid to wake up.

The ride home will seem shorter
than the ride here,
with her hand waving in the auto-breeze
like a leaf-less tree
and my head on the headrest
burning this moment onto the backs of my eyelids
to revisit whenever I want
on lesser days.