Tuesday, April 10, 2012

a singer of songs

They always come out of my head and
To a spot somewhere directly in front of my face
A few words at a time
Each word appearing
A second or so
Before I have to sing it
Providing me a chance to
Give them each their due
To put them in their proper position in the world or
 At least that’s how I hope it goes but
It doesn’t always
Not even if I manage to clear my head of
Everything else
Even fantasies of playing point guard for the Detroit Pistons
As I did tonight
Tonight I was channeling Leonard Cohen and Jeff Buckley
I was shooting for perfection
I wanted every word in the right place and
Every note as close to where it needed to be as I could place it and
After one do over
I was doing it
I flubbed a little when she tied him to a chair and
As I got ready to say “I’ve been here before”
I couldn’t remember being there before
I stopped and there wasn’t a sound
Until she broke in with “baby I’ve been here” and
I was there again
They were all there again
In front of my face but
Then I couldn’t see the flag on the marble arch either
Not until she showed it to me and
Then it was there again and
So now so was she
With a voice of her own
Six years in the making
So far
A voice
Reminding me that
The songs in my head
Aren’t just in my head and
Aren’t the only ones
Being sung

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