Cape Weather

[Verse 1]
Lolo, on the old Zenith, the anchor’s saying your name.
January kudzu is glazed with a cold-front rain.
The sound of Ma’s adobo simmering, two rooms away,
is the only gravity that matters on a Tuesday.

[Chorus]
And the weave was still perfect then, a clean sky-colored blue.
Just a single silver needle threading something new.

[Verse 2]
My hip made a little pop when I stood up for some tea.
Proprioception's gone again, a fraying part of me.
"'All systems nominal,' the television said,"
while I counted all the tangled threads inside my head.

[Chorus]
And the weave was still perfect then, a clean sky-colored blue.
Just a single silver needle threading something new.

[Bridge]
Lolo, did the air get thin over the Blue Ridge spine?
A loose pull in the nation’s seam, a fault in the design?

[Outro]
Tomorrow felt like such a smooth and simple piece of cloth.
Tomorrow felt so soft.