Elizabeth

Six years ago, in the attic under that roof,
I swore it on my life,
you and me will suffice,
and we would go and ride,
that car through the midwest.
Louisville, Memphis, Nashville, and around.

I played the best tune I ever had,
on a honky tonk piano next to that bed,
you lied on and wept,
sick and on your way to death,
and I remember this hotel,
but I do not know when,
or whom or where.

But past had come,
to haunt your head,
to be fed, the tribute
of that happiness,
here and now.

The past place we shall not have back.

I’m on a highway,
my headlights all I see,
looking out for love,
I will do this trip,
next year, you just watch me.
Finally.

I’m at the good end of control,
the one without a looking glass,
and I will hang on and cry,
when I pull in the driveway of the man,
who is my father, the true one,
the one that makes sense,
that Spaniard with his wild,
unruly hair, and reckless, piercing stare,
the man who laughs so much,
in the face of whoever comes along.

There is a place where I belong,
the Midwest, the United,
the States, and the Americas,

And I sit at that three piece table,
and stare into my water and coffee,
and listen about the errs, and misses and the loss,
of all the people in the world.
How they fail,
how they do not understand,
how they cannot figure out.
It’s the only story we have to tell.

We are alone, we are billions and yet that is how it is,
the pale blue dot out in the universe,
life, it happened just once,
and instead of blessed,
we feel cursed. Why, oh, why?
Explain to me the man who wants to die.

And there is a tune, that is this city,
the one, that makes deadly tired people,
listen the whole night, when it
raises its feeble voice just once,
then weep and cry,
all it means, all it has, all it wants.
Magical, mystical, ephemeral.

All you old friends,
four faces,
warm embraces,
you are all there is,
you and that tune,
when will I find that song and that soul,
with which it will be alright to stare into the night,
to look at a star and believe in what it says,
to watch the universe and leave it at what it is,
to listen to what it tells,
and endure all its greatness?

You, you know who you are,
the girl I slept all night with on that beach,
with wild hearts until the sun told us we were finished.
Six glasses of scotch, headphones and the volume half way to the top,
and finally, finally I feel alive.