(For Cavalier & the many semi-returns)
I could not be there for the magic and the wonder.
Play a sad song we know. The truths of the heart are too sad to reveal here. Oh play a sad song we know. I leave for work and I come back home everyday and I’m not sure in which hours I’m alive, only if they could play a sad song we know.
I have stopped searching for magic anymore in surprise restaurant dinners, Friday night, waiting like a hopeful waiter for his tip for your reaction to the seats with a view of the street I have been trying to get. The magic is not anymore in a Tuesday afternoon Old Taxi Park sidewalk purchase, the sandals you used to have as a child and have not had for years.
It’s not in the taxi trips to see you, the tense moments before I leave my room, looking around one more time at the jumbled unmade bed, the jackets I meant to wear and did not this week, the blog posts on white paper of so many I printed out scattered on my floor, wondering, frowning, what have I forgotten and knowing I will never remember because I can hardly wait any longer to walk out of the gate on quick feet, shoes crunching gravel, to get to a taxi that will bring me to you. The magic is no longer there.
My heart still jolts when my phone screen lights green with the nickname only you and I know I gave you one night we will never forget but that magic is not the magic it was, and I do not count anymore how many times you call me in a day, SMS me or send me an email. The magic is not there. I still look up when a girl with your name is called, my heart on wing, but no, the magic is no longer there too much.
It’s in Saturday afternoons, after the swim, watching you sleep on my towel, palms under your cheeks, under our tree, strange smile hovering over your lips, dimple in one cheek, one stretched out to hold mine under yours. Oh play a sad song we know.
My spirit is calm in this still bottled panic. I have found the silence in the bedlam whirl of my life, I’m the unbreakable lever, a fulcrum of many worlds, waiting to play a sad song we know. Street corner prowler, I’m still singing my song, trying to sing before there were the bright lights, the monthly planned days, fan tours behind tinted car windows, ties I still find hard to knot, one name recognition, I’m still searching for a stage to play a sad song we know. Oh play a sad song we know.
Oh play a sad song we know. I still know where I kept that guitar.