Wednesday, February 11, 2004
200 Word Wednesday: Love and NPR
On the radio todayThere was a man
An old songwriter
At the point in his career
Where operatic 20-somethings
That our mothers would listen to
Are making entire albums
Of his times-gone-by-hits
And I sat entranced
Listening to his voice
Of gravel and cigarettes
And thinking of you
He kept talking
About places that
I know you’ve never been
Oakland and Sacramento
Hollywood and
Screaming out of limos
And I was thinking of you
And your slow quiet voice
How you could never
Ride down Rodeo Drive
Yelling at tiny blonde things
But how if you did
The story would be
Just as good as it is
Coming from his mouth
Using your voice
Or at least your voice
As it will be
Forty years from now
Ten thousand cigarettes
Snubbed in coffee cans
And on the bottoms
Of work boots
All adding up to one
Fantastic existence
Right onto Highway One
And I realize
You let me get
Too many words in
And I want more talks like this
Where you can go on
Uninterrupted
About everything in the world
Music and love and
Family and skies
Where I’m driving
With nothing to say
And thinking of you
Heather at 5:36 PM
