by windrag

Late October and now I wear a wool
cap around the clock, take three naps a day.
I’ve no clear memory why this happens,
something about the earth tilting on an axis.
Yesterday twenty-three sandhill cranes flew north. Why?
– Jim Harrison, Suite of Unreason

scratched into the inner groove: “the sandhill
cranes.” the band name, lost to 20
years of not owning vinyl. just the memory
of the shiny black smooth vinyl,

glinting with whatever light was there,
those three words scratched by hand into
the die that pressed some number of those records,
holding the disc with fingers

outstretched, with the two palms. that moment flashes
into the mind from time to time,
as if i was just returning home from the market
and realized i’d forgotten to buy

milk for my son, which is what i went there for
in the first place, but without that sense
of purpose. just the urgency. a flight
without direction. why?