#76 COOK WHAT YOU GOT
(Americana)
Esther called, said she's coming over,
Didn't say what it's about.
Shake vanilla creamer on my coffee,
That girl tasks me when she pouts.
Pickle purrs and rubs against me,
As I pull stuff out for a meal.
Light my cig, look down at Pickle, say
"Yep, no sighing when she's off on how she feels."
Think that gets you anywhere.
Fussing about what you're not.
Pipe down and get on with it,
And cook what you got.
Esther breezes in, says "Mom, how's your day?"
I can barely speak before she's off.
Some party invite she didn't get,
High cost of apricot lip gloss.
I pat her shoulder as I get up,
Back to the stove, start frying, light a smoke.
Esther frowns, picks at her phone's cracked screen,
Mutters "You don't even care I'm broke."
I can't figure it out for you,
You always wanted a lot.
Get over what you don't have,
And cook what you got.
Pickle's scratching at the drapes, make him shoo.
Esther sets the table, like I taught her to do.
She's fluttering, clears her throat, bites her cheek.
I serve our meal, we sit down, chairs squeak.
If it's time to eat, I got no time to wait.
She gives me a quick look, looks back at her plate.
Pasta sauce on hash browns, nice and hot.
Snub my cig, cough and say "Enjoy what we got."
You don't have to tell me,
Things don't go like you thought.
Have your little pity party,
Or cook what you got.
I may be old but I'm not blind,
We all get in a tough spot.
Now dry your eyes and blow your nose,
And then go cook what you got.
Sent Esther off with the extras,
Watering my flowers, front of house.
Cross-the-street-Rodney grins big and toasts me,
Light my cig and stare right at him
'Til that stupid smile leaves his mouth.
#75 HERE WE GO
(Americana)
If my hand was steadier,
I'd write it all down.
I'll record this on my phone
So there isn't any doubt.
The dreams were strange Owen,
Everyone saying "Here we go,"
I woke up like I heard them,
Found myself all alone.
Tell me who wins Tom's Friday game,
I'll hear it just the same.
Words were said,
And now I know.
There you'll stay,
And here we go.
Pokey doesn't mind the hard food,
If you soak it good and soft.
New mailman tosses stuff all over,
Mr. John was great, he never tossed.
You all don't have to move out here,
But the boys would have so much fun.
Bathroom door upstairs sometimes sticks
This porch is lovely in the evening sun
Six library books to take back,
I should have fixed that crack.
Words were said,
And now I know.
There you'll stay,
And here we go.
I was fidgeting all morning
Thinking about those dreams.
Changed from one breath to the next this afternoon.
No more worry over what they mean.
You'll need Mr. Thomas with the bank,
When you see him, please give him my thanks.
Words were said,
And now I know.
There you'll stay,
And here we go.
Strange, it feels like this day's only begun,
And now I'm looking at a setting sun.
Words were said,
And now I know.
There you'll stay,
And here we go.
Take good care of everyone,
If you paint the door, I like dark blue.
Top shelf, behind that jumbo can of cashews,
Two jars of marmalade, just for you.
#74 THAT NEIGHBOR GIRL & THE SUMMER STORM
(Americana)
We go around picking up moments,
Starting on the day we're born.
Most of mine I've dropped,
But one won't let me go:
That neighbor girl and the summer storm.
Tonight's storm lets loose a rumble,
But it's still miles from here.
August back porch, glass of ginger ale,
Between dark clouds, first stars appear.
Stars on her denim jacket,
March morning, heavy frost
Hit a puddle, splashed her as I drove past,
She laughed and flipped me off.
That neighbor girl,
The summer storm.
Cold hard rain,
A night so warm.
Her mane of red hair smelled of ginger,
That turtle tattoo I don't forget.
Think the moment's at last gone,
Shows back up, says just not yet.
She walked out of the old Gas and Sip,
With a bright green slurpee, jumbo-size.
"Bet you never get into trouble!" she said,
I said "Trouble's name is, uh... mine!"
My eyes itching, summer pollen,
Head inside as the first drops hit the roof.
Digging through the closet, try to find
That harp she gave me to play the blues.
That neighbor girl,
The summer storm.
Racing down the road,
Her dad laying on his horn.
Wipers slash the rain away,
Shaking steering wheel, drops of sweat.
Hope the moment's done with me,
Shows back up, says just not yet.
That July night, I'm watching TV,
Parents gone, snuck a beer.
Phone rang, pick it up and she said
"Need a ride right now, away from here."
Storm hit as I drove
away from her house.
On the highway, she turns around
Yells "it's him!" as we head south.
I floor it in the driving rain
We're now being chased
By her dad's beat-up truck,
He speeds up and closes space.
Back on the porch, softly blowing the harp,
Eyes closed, see the night Kaye chose to run.
Showed her dad the turtle on her wrist, yells "We're done!"
Her dad just waved then turned off, don't know why,
Right before the exit for the bus station.
Yesterday came another postcard,
This time Sioux City, first one in years.
Now on the porch table, next to my glass,
Same as the others, just one word written: "Dear."
That neighbor girl,
The summer storm.
Watched her bus drive away,
Past endless fields of corn.
A fool to hope I won't revisit,
When her face I can't forget.
Feel the moment's finally done,
Summer storm on the roof tiles says
just... not... yet.
Rain starts blowing in the porch,
Head inside, pick up the harp,
Water dripping on the
Postcard in the dark.
#73 WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?
(Americana)
"What is she doing here?"
Maggie asks the girl beside her,
I'm standing in her back yard.
Best yellow sundress,
Holding a bright blue card.
Her mom says "Baby girl, your whole class was asked."
Maggie rolls her eyes, says "Super mistake!"
Keep to myself, twist on a swing,
Scuff my feet, eat some cake.
"What is she doing here?"
Yelled on playgrounds while everyone plays,
Muttered in lunchrooms, cold winter school days.
Mom asks "How was the party?" Not like I planned,
Blue card -- now with grass-stains -- tight in my hand.
Years later, conference room, rainy morning,
Boss turns from me, leans towards Blair.
Points at George, "What is he doing here?"
Open my laptop, shift in my chair.
Blair whispers, boss catches my eye,
Open my mouth, close it, then freeze.
Grab at my mug, slosh some coffee,
Everyone turns, looks right at me.
"What is she doing here?"
Whispered side-eyed at the store,
Shouted at the edge of the dance floor.
Bathroom mirror, grip the sink, hair's out of place,
Pass in the hall, can't look George in the face.
Smoking, kitchen table writing my speech,
Tap ashes in Sarah's painted flower pot.
Pencil breaks, now stuck with a red crayon,
"Will do better" over "Can?" Worth a thought.
Back of the crowd "What is she doing here?"
"Wasting time, not a player."
Step up and smile, pretend I didn't hear,
"I want to be your next mayor."
Another church basement,
Two months after I lost the election.
My head down, drinking bad coffee,
Hoodie up, try to avoid detection.
But then someone asks it softly,
The question meant for close ears.
I stand, look at all the tired faces,
"My name is Alice, and I haven't used in two years."
"Mom, what is she doing here?"
Sarah points, girl in green smock,
Birthday party, paint your own pottery store,
Later that night we have a talk.
Grape popsicles, right before bed.
Sarah says "Some people are just odd."
"But you once thought Gretchen was weird."
Licks her popsicle, then she smiles and nods.
Across town, another girl walks into a bar,
Waves at her pals, gets a beer.
One of her friends whispers
"What is she doing here?"
#72 DREAMS OF HOME
(Americana)
Orange shag rug, dark in places,
Smells like soup left out in the sun.
Daddy says "We'll clean it all up Lyra"
Promises me it'll be easy and fun.
I start unpacking, he finds a chair,
Cracks another bottle, sips, then leans back slow,
Sees I'm angry, jumps up and strikes a pose:
"Gonna be our best dream of home!"
Daddy says...
The basics come first,
When life gets mean.
Four walls, a lock that works,
The home of your dreams.
For this place Daddy hung a poster
Of a castle that says "Our Dream Home."
I'm working at the kitchen table,
He's drinking, playing some song he says I should know.
Record skips, he lurches to the player.
See the scratch, swears and throws his LP
Flops back down, sees I'm ignoring him,
Turns away, beats out a rhythm on his knee.
Move somewhere else,
Larger and mostly clean.
Cups and plates on the shelf,
The home of our dreams.
Daddy's not drinking, and sweating like a ghoul,
I'm visiting his place, short break home from school.
My favorite ice cream melting on the table
Another record on his turntable
He says "Don't worry, I'm fine when I'm alone"
He looks around, shrugs "At least it's home."
I was far away -- semester abroad,
The summer Daddy died alone.
I kept his can opener and turntable,
Things I needed for my new home.
Tidy, far from grand,
Mornings bright and green.
Sunlight, music, plants,
Just my home, not some dream.
#71 THE DARK SEA OF LIFE
[Americana (Sea Shanty)]
The dark sea of life,
It soothes and it churns.
From harbor to far shores,
Waves roll as the sun burns.
Freight your calm and your strife,
On the dark sea of life.
First sailed her when young,
Her warm winds on my face,
Her sharp taste on my tongue,
Gliding from place to place.
Never the same port twice,
On the dark sea of life.
In long days and dark dreams,
We praise and we curse her,
In whispers and screams.
Kind mother, dark beast.
Each crossing comes with a price,
On the dark sea of life.
Her currents, her swells,
Pull the floating, roll the drowned.
All the secrets she tells,
To old barnacled crowns.
You'll find monsters and ice
In the dark sea of life.
Took my son, took my brother.
Scream out as I sail her:
"You'll not get another,"
"Take me next instead."
Let me sink straight down,
And the dark sea take my life.
The dark sea of life,
Laughs at what you planned.
I learned in storm and hunger,
Through tears and shaking hands.
We all get one trip, not twice,
On this dark sea of life.
#70 THE COUCH BY THE CREEK
(Americana)
The train bumps and rattles,
His shirt collar's too tight.
Surrounded by strangers,
This city's the wrong damn size.
A small girl, blue dress on her mother's lap,
She just stares, not blinking.
Grey buildings flash past,
He sighs and then closes his eyes
Whip-por-whills whistling,
Dragonflies dancing.
On the edge of sleep,
The couch by the creek.
The sidewalk's crowded, they bump shoulders,
She looks, they look away.
The girl behind her in line,
Her small wrist tattoo says "my song."
The line inches forward,
The wind gusts and swirls.
Smokers curse and cup their hands,
A man in robes rings a gong.
Dark red clay anthill,
Grey rabbit, stock-still,
On the edge of sleep,
The couch by the creek.
Some places you leave,
Some places you carry.
Fountain at the center of the park,
Shadows stretch across the pathways.
He taps his fingers on his bench,
Counting rows of trees.
Ducks walk in a line around a corner,
An old lady pushes her dog in a carriage,
He rubs his neck and frowns,
Then turns to face the evening breeze.
Amber barn cat purrs,
Willow tree whispers,
On the edge of sleep,
The couch by the creek.
#69 THE ACHE THAT DON'T END
(Memphis Soul)
"It's not love mister, it's an ache that don't end."
Late night in my bar, old man takes a slow sip.
I keep drying glasses, he shakes his head,
"You're livin', walkin' a straight line, then you trip."
He taps his glass rim, nods for a top-up,
Asks me if with the ladies, I have a type.
Doesn't wait for my answer, says "She was mine."
"And not a stranger, my kid brother's wife."
You can run, you can hide,
You can front, you can pretend.
But once it finds you, it has you,
The ache that don’t end.
"She was older than him, closer to me."
Tight smile, says "You promise yourself you won't."
Sighs, a slow look around the bar, few more sips,
Then he says "Some aches grab you by the throat."
"One day I looked at her, she looked right back."
Slumps down, chin on forearms "We just couldn't stop."
Raises up, drains his glass and continues,
"One night he comes back a bit too soon from the shop."
You can beg, you can plead,
You can fake it, you can pretend.
But once it has you, it keeps you,
The ache that don’t end.
Old man says "I should stop." I shake my head no,
He shrugs "Well, you know how it goes..."
"He didn't yell... He just..." Old man slams down his fist.
"My kid brother looked at me, said 'You will not be missed.'"
Old man hung his head, says "Then he drove away slow."
"Where he is, how he's doing -- I'll never know."
Drains his drink, hands me some cash, then he says:
"Ask myself every damned day why'd I begin it,"
Stands to leave -- leans over, whispers in my ear:
"I'd do her again in a red hot minute."
You can struggle, you can swear,
But you don't front or pretend
Now that it has you, it owns you,
That ache that don’t end.
You can struggle, you can swear,
But you don't front or pretend
Now that it has you, it owns you,
That ache that don’t end.
That ache that don’t end.
#68 AROUND THE NEXT CORNER
(Americana)
Gail's small salad, burger for me
Corner diner -- greasy bite, then I smile.
She asks "Joy, what went wrong this time?"
I frown "Told myself he's the one -- missed by a mile."
She says "You'll bounce back, you always do!"
Finish all my fries, pay for our meals.
Hugs outside -- big smile, thumbs up from Gail,
My friends think what I do shows how I feel.
I move forward
with a reminder;
My name is Joy,
and I will find her.
Sometimes colder,
sometimes warmer,
I hope she's just
around the next corner.
Crowded party, Jenna's birthday,
Rooftop terrace, city lights far below.
Everyone asks me about Derek,
Say I look strong, even after a blow.
Head to the kitchen, find something tasty,
Turn the corner, "Loud Andy"'s trapped Paul,
Andy waves his arms, Paul laughs, looks at me,
Slow breath in -- And I knew, right there in the hall.
Each day begins
with a reminder;
My name is Joy,
and I can find her.
Sometimes colder,
sometimes warmer,
I feel she's just
around the next corner.
Now together, laughing -- Paul and me work,
He listens, my heart leaps -- all the perks.
Ink on marriage license not fully dried,
City bus jumps a crosswalk -- Paul died.
Need a time machine, go back and warn her,
Help me stop Paul from turning that corner.
Two days in bed -- numb, not even crying.
Casket, flowers, food after -- need a plan.
Worried about flowers, want them perfect,
Gail says "I know a place, owners a good man."
Park in the street, store's down an alley,
Alley corner, snap my heel -- just grand.
Swear loudly, breathe deeply, wipe my tears,
Walk down the alley, shoes in my hand.
Turn my corners
with a reminder;
My name is Joy,
and I will find her.
Sometimes colder,
sometimes warmer,
I know she's just
around the next corner.
The flower shop door squeaks when opened,
Store owner wears too much cologne.
But he's nice, and helps me come up with
An arrangement that's completely my own.
And the last thing I see as the
Shop door swings shut with a groan.
My broken shoes in their trash can,
Flower shop owner on the phone.
#67 WHY NOT FLY
[Americana (gospel-inflected)]
Photos -- bedside table, framed in gold,
Friends and family, places, moments.
His arms reach out -- withered, trembling,
Then collapse on the bed, fists clenched.
Out the stately bedroom windows,
Setting sun paints the vast estate.
His ragged breathing slows and settles,
We gather close, hold still and wait.
It's now time, your hard walk's ending,
Raise your head, look t'wards the sky.
End the climb, your back's done bending.
More than one way up to heaven,
So why not fly.
Searing heat and red dirt floor,
A narrow bed we can't keep dry.
Her hand tugs and twists the sheet,
Loses her grip, and still she tries.
She strains, she pauses -- sweat drips down her neck,
Head swings left, then right -- starts crying.
We mop her brow, we hold her hand,
Her body still, eyes don't stop moving.
#66 DON'T WANT IT BACK
[Americana (blues-inflected)]
Friends swing by, tell me they're worried that,
I'm front-porch drinking all the time.
Crunch my empty can, pop another,
Tell 'em you're long gone, and I'm just fine.
They tell me five weeks since you left,
I laugh, say "Feels more like five hours."
They ask if I'm sure I'm okay,
Tell 'em I'll send you thank you flowers.
Now stay the hell away from me,
Last person that I want to see.
You smile, then lie -- that's a fact,
Don't need that pain, don't want it back.
Don't need that pain, don't want it back.
Cold take-out, whiskey -- party for one,
Turn up the music, scroll through my phone.
Pictures -- at the lake, before our fight,
I toast my new life, better alone.
Kitchen table, jot down my plan,
Write my book, learn the mandolin.
But first ice cream, some weed gummies,
And then tomorrow we'll begin.
So stay the hell away from me,
Last person that I want to see.
Voice cold and sharp, another fact,
Don't need your scorn, don't want it back.
Don't need your scorn, don't want it back.
Thought I saw you at the bar -- wrong girl,
Said my piece, then got slapped. That hurt.
Drove out to the lake, snow falling down,
Looked at our spot, drove right back to town.
Strange face in mirror -- crying, that's weird,
Stared some more -- not strange, just my new beard.
You stay the hell away from me,
Your face I can't stand to see.
Repeat the lie, 'til it's a fact,
Just keep my love, don't want it back.
Just keep my love, don't want it back.
Please stay the hell away from me,
I'll shatter if your face I see.
Repeat these lies 'til they're all facts,
Just keep my heart, don't want it back.
Just keep my heart, don't want it back.
#65 SLOWER THAN MOLASSES
(Americana)
Big race, fifth grade, the crowd's gone before I finish,
College café table, I start to speak -- they've moved on.
Law firm cubicle -- my "to-do" file never empties,
TV game-shows -- I'm late with answers, but rarely wrong.
Then one day in a watch and clock repair shop,
Watching him work, slowly place each piece -- he just knew.
Five years working for him, then opened my own shop,
Quiet, strong coffee, well-placed coils and screws.
I lean back and wave,
As the world speeds past us.
No time to rush, my days tick on,
Perfectly slower than molasses.
Door chimes, you walk in. Broken clock, bright green eyes.
Coffee leads to park-side tacos, kissing in my car.
Soon it's beach trip, bluegrass concert, tango lessons
Park bench after midnight -- laughing, counting stars.
Five months later, cold grey day, you curled up as I work,
Scrolling, pointing out the places you want us to stay.
You come over, kiss and hug me, I drop a coil.
"Aren't we perfect?" I nod. Pause, then look away.
I watch you running at the world's pace,
And I'm scared you'll rush right past us.
I unravel when I try to keep up,
I need my days slower than molasses.
Park bench, sunset, I say "We're not right."
You tilt your head, "But we never fight!"
Then say "I'll do things your way, not mine."
I nod, "I don't... Please give me some time."
Park bench, lunchtime, I say I'm sorry, I'm a jerk,
"We'll just meet in the middle. That works"
You stand up, smile tightly, tell me I'm wrong.
"Answer's not right when it takes that long."
Three days seemed like a mistake, but it's worse than that,
As more and more time passes.
My days grind down t'wards still and silent,
Unsteady and slower than molasses.
At your door, text you "Please, give us a chance"
My phone dings, text says "Too soon. Go away."
A month later, park bench, it's trying to rain.
I call, you pick up. Silence, then you say "Too late."
Hours on the couch at night watching gameshows,
Dirty kitchen, reading a book about sorrow.
Sigh, put down the book, pick up a sponge.
The clocks need winding, I'll do them tomorrow.
The clock chimes: another hour without you,
Sharp sting as time drags past us.
Bright lonely mornings, long dark nights,
All painfully slower than molasses.