under some patchwork quilt that used to get used at the beach
you laid with me wondering if i would see you again
as you turned on your side some old sand fell onto your naked arms
ironically showing me the swift fall of time
your attention grew divided
with both a record player and TV flickering and playing in the background
some song i had never heard, by a band that wouldn’t matter
i said this and you said i was angry cause you were leaving in an hour
and to just be still and enjoy this moment
i threw a few nice words out under the cover
in time with an old alarm clock that helped you drift
to sleep and my words did the same
i just went.
i seemed to think i knew everything about you,
you didn’t know anything about me
you didn’t need to.
Me and us in the dark
you stopped the raid
torch in hand
like someone who cared
some dress you slipped on
ruffled my feathers
who did it come from
i pretended not to know
i knew how the indians felt
intruders at the shore
and know i was in trouble
a double dose of adrenaline
the other woman walked in
the lights turned on
i was alone
they both fled arm in arm
i was in the wrong room again
drunk in the dark
the river flowed against my weeping leg
scarred like the memories you once gave me
the reed’s coarse hairs split the tension and dread
always ending up here with the passing
gives me hope that things change and some times pass
i just want to see my sister dancing
the ledge of the banks is my helping hand
our grandfather carved them out with his spade
he never wanted you in the deep sand
the restlessness of my nature is true
especially here in mirrored nature
you lean and grow with every planted yew
i’m cold and numb inside this young river
and i’ll meet you here soon come the summer
you grow and i’ll be the one to wither.
I heard she walks through the artist’s workshop nightly,
Picking up the scraps fallen from the vice
It was there that they played my song on the radio,
Hoping she would recognize my humble voice.
Nothing that was ever created there
Could match all of her beauty and her way
I’m not aware they ever did see her,
They never made work like that during the day.
She struggled like her nature did foresee,
And bounced between a job a room and fame
Men struggled to tie her down and woo her,
I whispered, Let her roam free and speak her name.
Following her down to California,
Still she scarred me like a claw and provoked blood,
I left a rose to age on her window sill
To remind her that real beauty never does.
The sun, it did nothing to shirk my love
It bowed my cracks and filled them in with lead
She let me carry her books home and saunter,
Still she would not let me take her to her bed.
Just to have the chance to hear her heart beat
Would be enough for me to reflect
I can never hope to walk beside her,
For she walks too fast and I’ll just recollect.
I wrote a letter for all my heartache,
That expressed all that I would demand
Yet my words fell silent on a heart made of glass,
And I cursed the day that fire torched the sand.
Without a choice, I drank myself sober,
To understand the way that I’d been led
Then I moved out of her California,
Went home to my poor lady instead.
I often have the time to think about her,
Again to feel the whim of youth and tide
I hope she felt happiness before too long,
That something I just could not provide.
That something I just could not provide.
I dropped some cigarette ash on your neatly cut hair
I made your morning coffee slightly cold
I wept at films that you deemed too bold
And pretended I didn’t need subtitles.
These are the things I do to make you flinch
I played Bach at a higher speed on the record player
I pretended it was broken when you picked out Van Morrison
I sang harmonies to every line when you fixed it
And dragged my feet when you asked me to change sides.
This is what I do to annoy you
I poured Starbucks into your independent coffee store cup
I lied about my mothers age and said I was adopted
I read you Pablo Neruda when you picked out Frost
And changed the words around and made then all about summer.
This is what I do to confuse you
I never let you help me with the morning crossword
I went on walks for hours and didn’t call
I drank myself in to such rich stupors I couldn’t stand
And lied about the trivial shit.
This is what I do because I am a bastard
I watch you sleep and block the morning light out of your eyes
I cook your favorite meal three nights a week even though I’m allergic
I listen to your friends talk about their friends
I stopped going to the bar.