Stand by Me
David St. John
When the
solace1 of angels is named,
When the first lesions of winter light
Scrawl their paths across the black sheet
Of the bed beneath the skylight,
When the algebras of my past repeat
Themselves drunkenly on into the night,
When the lemon peels twist
When the door is closed behind me,
When the stilettos all stand at attention
The moment I step onto the subway,
When my future's looking dim,
Stand by me
no matter
The declensions of light along the shore,
No matter the new color of my hair,
No matter the
tattoo4 I've solicited
In a bar fight over nothing,
No matter the motion of my body against yours
Breaking its own rainbow,
No matter what,
stand by me;
If some innocent misanthropy
unties6 me
If the many travellers within me all
Depart together, or if the one who's most
Rude & surly returns to you alone,
If every word I've lifted with such effort
If there's still some consequence in this,
Stand by me;
after the music
Rasps its way out of my chambered bones,
After the
shuffle9 I'm famous for is reduced
To nothing but the white tracings
Of shoes on a sidewalk,
Numbered 1, 2, & 3 ...
After the legato which will leave me alone,
After the third day of prolonged applause,
After the newscasters impress upon me
The transitory nature of all earthly fame,
After my make-up begins to run like
Stigmata in the shadow of the klieg lights,
After the night before the night
You decide it really isn't
Worth it anymore,
stand by me;
Because the antiphony of my conscience
Has become quite enough,
Because you remember me believing
Whatever it was that I believed,
Because it's getting late no matter which
Country, heart or clock we consult,
Because the outfield is moving in,
Because even the women on the Pirelli
Calendar are looking grim,
Because everyone has to forgive someone,
Because I miss you & it matters,
Because no one else wears the morning
Quite so well, stand by me, please;
Stand by me.
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