#90 WHAT YOU LEFT WHEN YOU LEFT
(Memphis Soul)
You sit down, then I sit down and say "Been a minute since"
"That night I caught you doing wrong in our bed."
You start to talk, I shush you, remind you it's been
Two years since you grabbed your stuff
-- then grabbed her and fled.
Straight from me -- no middleman:
You destroyed me, yet here I am.
You didn't care, you didn't guess,
What you left when you left.
You say you're sorry, I shush again. "This is not for you."
Drinks arrive, I sip my whiskey, lean forward with a grin.
Say "I cried two months -- churning out soot -- after that day."
Tell you I'm not here for "sorries," flowers, violins.
Straight from me -- no middleman:
You destroyed me, yet here I am.
You don't know, you can't even guess,
What you left when you left.
Curled up in a ball, most every night,
Tried a frantic, packed schedule -- wasn't right
Now I'm quiet, steady -- forward walking,
Chin up, shoulders back, don't waste time talking.
I grab and shake your hand before you know what to do,
Then say "Why act surprised? This is not about you."
Straight from me – no middleman
You destroyed me, and here I am.
You don't know, don't try to guess,
What you left when you left.
From me to you -- no middleman:
You destroyed me, and here I am.
Now I've told you. No need to guess,
What you left when you left.
Said my piece -- stand up and smile, turn to face the day,
My soot-covered wing flaps once -- I walk out the doorway.
#89 HE JUST NEEDS TO KNOW
(Americana)
Stuffy classroom, afternoon detention,
Lucky me in charge 'cause I'm the substitute.
Without warning, one girl attacks another.
Pulls her hair, then storms out shouting "Think you're cute?"
Sort things out, learn the victim was
Jane Cobb -- quiet girl, serious reader.
The raging hair-puller? Turns out it's
Kasey Parker, captain of the cheerleaders.
It might not change things,
It might not fix things
It might not get us to where I want to go
But I do know one thing:
He just needs to know.
I leave my desk, sit down beside Jane,
Says she spoke to Kasey's boyfriend at the mall.
Told him he's Romeo with the wrong Juliet,
Kasey didn't like that part at all.
She's silent -- staring, calm and steady.
I say "Not sure, but I think I get it."
I'm quiet -- hoping she'll say more,
She shrugs, says: "It's true, so I said it."
It might not change things,
It might not fix things
It might not get us to where I want to go
But I do know one thing:
He just needs to know.
That night I'm grading papers, eating cold French fries
Keep thinking about Jane's calm and steady eyes.
She said the truth, settled for nothing less.
Ate another fry in the safety of silence.
It might not change things,
It might not fix things
It might not get us to where I have to go
But I do know one thing:
He just needs to know.
He's sitting quiet in his chair,
Cold beer, flat stare, just like every day.
I sit down beside him, take his hand,
"There's something that I have to say."
#88 LICENSE TO BELIEVE
(Americana)
That weathered wall has 2 pictures:
Me and Randall strumming our guitars.
The other's a young Roy Orbison,
Right before he became a star.
Now the wall's not an easy visit,
I have to love you for a start.
'Cause I don't let just anyone,
Into the back room of my heart.
Just strumming and singing,
Most every Sunday afternoon.
I'm always laughing, trying to catch up,
As Randall calls out the tune.
As Randall calls out the tune.
I was painting the cellar door,
Mama got the call, lets out a cry.
"Lord don't you dare take my boy!"
I just thought: "Randall? Why?"
Church was all full up and then some,
As they put their young preacher to rest.
I stood outside by the well with his guitar,
The only part of my brother I had left.
No more strumming, no more singing,
No more Sunday afternoons.
I close my eyes, I'm always seeing,
When Randall called out the tune.
When Randall called out the tune.
On the porch alone, tried to strum a tune,
Close my eyes, go to my heart's room.
License now pulled off the wall,
Just its hook remains, but that's not all.
Guitar picture's torn, pic of Roy's gone yellow,
I pace the floor as the shadows grow.
Full stop. Back on the porch -- 'cause now I know,
Impatiently watch the sun sink far too slow.
In tonight's dream I'll go to heaven,
Where I guess they've got a DMV.
I'll stand in line, refuse to leave.
Until they give me back
my license to believe.
#87 JUST FOLKS
(Americana)
He practiced smiling in the hallway,
Widen eyes, raise the cheeks, hide the strain.
Tilts his head, then nods -- slow and caring,
Show the voters that he feels their pain.
Walk out your morning doorway,
And let's see how it goes.
Shake hands with liars, cheaters, killers,
Or even worse, I suppose.
But to their dentist, coach, and plumber
They're just folks.
Press conference, Olympic stadium,
Says her blood tests all were clean.
Rubs her face to keep her jaw from clenching,
Tries her joke -- "Only guilty of caffeine!"
Push through the crowd,
Brush by suits and sweatshirt logos
A throng of liars, cheaters, killers,
Or even worse, I suppose.
But to their families, friends and lovers,
They're just folks.
His lips tremble, but his eyes are cold and bright,
News clip headline "Vanished out on girl's night."
After, heads to the basement with the knife,
To bury alongside the vanished wife.
Staring in that morning mirror,
All those secret truths it shows.
Looking at a liar, cheater, killer,
Or even worse, I suppose.
But to the ones who hold you, kiss you, love you
You're just folks.
Yeah, to the ones who hold you,
And the ones who kiss you,
And the ones who love you, miss you,
You're just folks.
#86 BURNING STOLEN BIBLES
(Country)
Now I’m burning stolen bibles
in a warehouse across the tracks,
Hear the sirens getting closer,
No way to take things back.
Toss more gas upon the book pile,
Watch the flames spark and soar.
Step back, try not to get burned,
Like that matters anymore.
Scant chance this one goes to trial,
Undone by her cold denial.
Lost a good job, chased a wild woman,
Now I’m burning stolen bibles.
There were also sirens that night,
Some stupid fight outside the bar.
Stranger walks up, sits down, grabs my smokes,
Takes one out, lights up, says "There you are."
Tight leather pants, half smile, dancing eyes
Hair cascade as she swung in her seat.
Straight jet-black with bright red roots,
Didn't slow me down for even a beat.
No way this one goes to trial,
Undone by her cold denial.
Tossed a good job, running with a wild woman,
And now I’m burning stolen bibles.
Liquor store hold-ups not enough to soothe her,
So then we're stealing trucks in Tuscaloosa.
Robbed the printing plant in Mountain Brook,
Loaded down with all those pallets of the good books.
Pried the safe open, eager for the cash,
Stepped back, dropped the crowbar with a crash,
She'd run off with the reason for the caper
Left me with only matches and all that paper.
Bound for somewhere, but it ain't trial
Sold my soul for her denial.
The devil's hands are never idle,
And now I’m burning stolen bibles.
Have judges, jailers waste their time on me?
Mister, that would be a shame.
Square my shoulders, raise my chin,
And walk into the flames.
#85 FOUR MILES PAST EXIT EIGHTEEN
(Americana)
Edge of the bed, fighting the spins.
Too much last night, tried to numb the empty.
He's sweet -- only says it, doesn't mean it.
Coffee, then packing -- no time for laundry.
This great escape ain't going like I planned it,
Mud-streaked culvert is where I've landed.
Out of love, out of luck, out of gasoline,
Stranded four miles past exit eighteen.
He wakes up just as I finish packing,
Pressing hard to shut my car trunk lid.
He says it softly, head down -- heart's not in it.
A quick hug, tell him "Wasn't anything you did."
Running away ain't going like I planned it,
Mud-streaked culvert is where I've landed.
Out of love, out of luck, out of gasoline,
Dead stop four miles past exit eighteen.
Maybe back to the mountains, work the ski season.
Great tips if you're good at people-pleasin'.
Could visit Julie, Texas coast -- she's bartending.
Tell myself I've got options. Damn near unending!
Brand new start ain't nowhere near like I planned it,
Stupid mud-streaked culvert is where I've landed.
Skipping rocks into a dirty little stream,
Out of love, out of luck, out of gasoline,
Just waiting, four miles past exit eighteen.
After an hour, a grey truck pulls over,
Shares some gas, asks me where I'm going.
Start to answer, but then stop myself,
Say instead "Right now, no way of knowing."
#84 YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU DON'T KNOW
(Americana)
I watch the sun rise, drink my coffee,
Alone in the back porch, across from our chair.
I'd lay on your lap, feel you breathing,
You'd hum softly while you braid my hair.
Planting flowers by myself, spring afternoon,
Find my gloves next to our old croquet set.
Months earlier, we're arguing in the kitchen,
I ask, you say "Can't know what we are just yet."
I could blame you or I could bless you,
So I'm gonna walk the softer road.
Until my last day it’ll task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.
Lonely room full of cardboard boxes,
Waiting to be filled with all your damn books.
You said "I'll pay for your time and shipping."
Stack them in the open garage -- let the neighbors look.
That night back in the kitchen, between the yelling,
Show the pic of us dancing where you smile and I beam.
You drink your drink, tell me it's thin evidence,
Then ask "What does a ring even mean?"
I could blame you or I could bless you,
Trying to walk that softer road.
Until my last day it’ll task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.
Vineyard terrace, drinking wine, I say "Want this life!"
You look around, nod then say "View's really nice."
That night driving home, you hum as you're steering,
I stare out the window, fidget with my earring.
Tried to bless you, now I blame you,
Wandered off that softer road.
Until my final day it’ll task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.
I blame you but still can't grow to hate you,
Even on this harder road.
I guess you're now well past me,
But til my last day it will task me,
You don’t know what you don’t know.
#83 LA LA LA OOH OOH OOH
(Americana)
Old Man Jacobs -- foul mood, stomping and sweating,
Says "Roger, these graphics, what are you doing?
I go "Mr. Jacobs, I want.. Uh..." Then I shut down.
He says "Stop locking up! There's a client viewing."
At his desk, he puffs a cigar and cleans his glasses,
Says "I get over fifteen resumes a day."
Leans back and looks out his large window,
Goes "Tell me why I should keep you. Right now, today."
I go la la la na na na,
When I want to say ooh ooh ooh.
Keep on na na na la la la-ing,
Ooh ooh ooh, just what do I do?
Trudy's blue eyes are narrowed -- means she's sad,
Then her brow furrows -- now she's upset.
She sighs, taps her spoon on the table and asks,
If I've figured things out just yet.
Old diner, chrome back booth, bowls of chowder,
She goes "Tell me where you are, or I'm making choices."
Clench my jaw, tight breath in, try to speak,
Only a few words, then turn to noises.
I go la la la na na na,
But I've got to say ooh ooh ooh.
Keep on na na na la la la-ing,
Ooh ooh ooh, now what can I do?
Quit before Old Man Jacobs sent me packing,
Had words in mind -- words in mouth were lacking.
Trudy says "Don't care where you work. I care about us."
Shakes her head, goes "What is this thing you won't discuss?"
I get up and go sit on Trudy's side of the booth,
Lean in and whisper "I'm scared... I, uh... Ooh ooh ooh."
Now less la la la na na na,
And a bit more ooh ooh ooh.
Any time I'm na na la la-ing,
I now know what to do.
Now I laugh if I say la la na na,
And Trudy soothes my ooh ooh ooh.
Every time I'm na na la la-ing,
I know exactly what to do.
#82 ABIGAIL MORGAN'S SECOND DANCE
(Americana)
Abby nibbles pretzels, reading in the hallway,
Sister's big charity gala -- "Come on, please say yes!"
Abby traded in the band, crowded dance floor.
For "Pride & Prejudice" -- paperback, worn pages.
Worked the greeting line with her sister,
Had one short dance across the floor.
Friend of her sister's -- "Abby, he's single!"
Fancy dancing much less fun than a bookstore.
Other side of forty, you hold hope clenched and close,
Unlike when you were younger and carefree.
You feel that slight tug in your shoulders,
Then hope goes floating,
Hope goes floating free.
Abby smiles, turns her book's pages,
Nods in rhythm to the music from the main room.
She's being watched by Tony, head of catering,
He's in the kitchen polishing spoons.
Tony's tux has a small tear in the shoulder,
Didn't notice -- lots of people need feeding.
But all night he's been noticing Abby,
Smiled when he saw what she's reading.
Divorced, joint custody -- hope's padlocked,
Unlike when you were young and carefree.
You feel that slight tug in your shoulders,
Then hope goes floating,
Hope goes floating free.
Tony introduces himself -- warm, steady handshake,
Says "No offense, I think you're making a mistake."
Asks why she's in the back and not out on the floor,
Holds out his hand, says
"Now or never, band's last encore."
Says staff's not allowed to dance, but he doesn't care,
Smiles wide, points at the book on her chair.
Says "Don't deny me a chance to at long last be,"
"That aloof -- yet dashing -- Mr. Darcy."
Your face in the mirror -- you forget hope's even there,
But then suddenly you're where you're supposed to be.
Feel that long-lost tug in your shoulders,
Then hope goes floating,
Hope goes floating free.
Abby and Tony on the dance floor
is where our song ends,
Tony smiles and dips Abby -- she laughs and bends.
He spins her -- standing tall, chin up high,
Then pulls her in, looks her straight in the eye.
Abigail Morgan just beaming to beat the band,
Held close by Tony, she takes her second dance.
#81 DANCING WITH THE MONKEY
(Americana)
Dry mouth, metal taste, itchy fingers,
Now you've met the monkey.
Bottle on the table, you just watch it,
Now you're dancing with the monkey.
Four days gone, torn clothes in a strange room,
And now you've fed the monkey.
Got a call and I came straight over,
Intensive care, Jaxon's strung up in the bed.
Sees me, starts crying softly,
I lean in, he whispers "Wish I was dead."
Cop sippin' coffee asks "Who are you to him?"
I say "Friend, and sponsor since two thousand eight."
Cop sighs, rubs his neck, says "Needs a good lawyer."
"Drunk driving, wrong way on the interstate."
A lover, son or brother,
World calls you stupid drunk, dirty junkie.
Make sure today is not
A day you feed the monkey.
Cop gives me his card, tired eyes, steady gaze,
Says "He won't be booked til later."
"Wrecked before he hit someone, thank god."
Shakes his head as he walks to the elevator.
Jaxon waves his hand, wants me closer,
Whispers "I'm past help. Last place you should be."
Show him a phone picture -- open bottle, poured glass,
Say "I'm only here for you to help me."
Was a lover, son or brother,
Friends call you stupid drunk, dirty junkie.
Not much chance of winning when
Every day you feed the monkey.
Earlier that night, the itch starts screaming,
The monkey smiles, always scheming.
Went searching for something I've had since don't know when:
Now worn and dusty, unopened bottle of gin.
Faded label: "By appointment to the King"
Cracked the bottle, poured a glass... then my phone rings.
No more a lover, son or brother,
Family calls you stupid drunk, dirty junkie.
Wake up and keep on fighting,
Every second you feed the monkey.
Night rain pits and thrums on the window.
Jaxson turns away, won't look at me.
I sit beside the bed, take his hand.
Say "You decide who you want to be."
Down the road we might once again,
Lose to that bastard -- face-down passed out, front yard.
But for today, let's make a promise Jaxson:
"That fucking monkey's gonna starve."
#80 CLOUDS ON A WINDY DAY
(Americana)
The wind blew strong and steady,
That day we put daddy in the ground.
12-year-old me and mama at his graveside,
My new suit was black, the coffin was brown.
Uncle Drew sat me down on the porch after,
Says "Stand tall for your ma now Ty."
Took me fishing the next weekend,
Out by the river, he points at the sky.
Clear right now, but it'll change soon,
Sure as night comes after day.
Bad times always blow in,
Stay for a while, but then go away.
Like leaves at the end of November,
Or clouds on a windy day.
Tree stand, cool quiet before sunset,
I whisper "Where are all the deer?"
Uncle Drew puts his bow down, chuckles,
Says "That gets asked twelve thousand times a year."
Duck blind, stormy early morning,
Drew asks how high school's going.
I hang my head, complain the classes are hard.
He smiles, takes aim and says "Learning before knowing."
Rain right now, but it'll change soon,
Sure as night comes after day.
Good times often show up,
Stay for a while, but then go away.
Like grass fires in a dry August,
Or clouds on a windy day.
Framed picture on the wall, law school graduation,
Me, mama and Drew -- big smiles, big occasion.
Three months later, first trial at work.
Turn Drew down, he says "Relax. You're not a jerk."
Late night phone call, Mama makes a strangled sound,
Cries out "Boat crash on the river: your uncle drowned."
Cold right now, but it'll change soon,
Sure as night comes after day.
Bad times always blow in,
Stay for a while, but then go away.
Like blizzards in late January,
Or clouds on a windy day.
Break of dawn, morning after the call,
Sitting on our porch, chill wind, early fall.
Mama cries, I'm silent with wet eyes,
The clouds move slowly across ruby-red skies.
#79 WANDA JANE'S IN A STIR
(Americana)
Ask just about anyone,
And they'll remember where they were.
When they first found out that
Wanda Jane's in a stir.
Digging in my garden, Bambi dashes over
Late spring warm evening, steady rain.
Says "Paula, what on earth is going on"
"With my little Wanda Jane?"
Wrings her hands, starts huffin' about
Her straight-A daughter, pride and joy.
How she caught her kissing -- who knows what else?
With Jonas Dalton's youngest boy.
First the luncheon with the choir,
And then Pastor John reads the word
I shouldn't say, but we just found out
Wanda Jane's in a stir!
Saturday lunchtime at my flower shop,
Wanda -- head down, sweeping up slow.
Ask her if she's excited for graduation,
She sighs, rolls her eyes, says "Not sure I'll go!"
Sally Murphy watching us both like a hawk,
Send Wanda out for ice cream -- "I'll take a double."
Sally at my counter, whispers
"Poor thing. Has to be boy trouble!"
Sally goes with red roses, not the white.
Says "I thought it can't be! -- Not her!"
Tells me everyone at book club found out that
Wanda Jane's in a stir!
Food mart checkout line, get bumped by Elaine,
Updates on her laid-off husband and Wanda Jane.
Mister Perkins, gassing up -- "I think she's drinking."
"Come on, a Dalton boy? What is she thinking?"
I smile, shrug my shoulders then turn away.
Try to swallow and remember first love, clear as day.
We can talk about you in a minute,
I'm sure you didn't know it was real fur.
But you gotta tell me when you found out that
Wanda Jane's in a stir!
Bobby Campbell's not making state,
Woodshop class, chopped off a finger.
Then even worse -- we all found out that
Wanda Jane's in a stir!!
Graduation night,
on my porch, warm heavy air.
Door slams -- then on the front walk,
Wanda and the boy are there.
They kiss, my chair creaks,
Both turn, wide-eyed and look at me.
I just smile and nod,
Take a long, slow sip on my iced tea.
#78 STANDING CRYING LONELY
(Americana)
Wipe my tears as I give my order,
Six am, alone in Micky D's.
Drive-through backed up, staff moves quick,
Perfect couple on the poster stare at me.
Sip my too large, too hot coffee,
Watch the endless loop of cars.
Paul said he's sorry, closed his door then locked it,
Three weeks from first-sight-heart-leap to here we are.
His hair shines in the moonlight,
Chin on shoulder, pressed in close to me.
From laying loving together,
To standing crying lonely.
First guy I lived with waxed his mustache,
Daniel said it elevated his style.
The hats he'd wear were mostly stupid,
But his pointy mustache always made me smile.
Spent more and more time together,
I just moved in, pretending that he asked.
April Sunday planting flowers, he says we're done.
I storm out, breaking things, yell "You said we'd last!"
Lake cabin, snowing. I'm reading, he's at the stove,
Making French toast for me only.
From laying loving together,
To standing crying lonely.
Landry wrote songs and played the banjo,
First saw him play at a party with a friend.
Soon we're living together, he's cooking chili,
I made up rules in Scrabble so I'd win.
We'd fight over games and opinions,
Before things got hurtful, always said when.
One foggy March morning, we stopped saying when.
Yelling in his carport, me leaving once again.
Late night banjo strumming, I say I want to play,
Simple chords then he shows me.
From laying loving together,
To standing crying lonely.
Daniel asked me to join him at things -- I'd decline,
Then not look him in the eyes when he'd say "That's fine."
Landry laughed when I said "I'm burning that green sweater!"
Felt safe when he held me, should have done him better.
Paul had coffee ready when I woke,
Said six days in I loved him, pretended it was a joke.
Now I'm 4AM clock-watching, wondering
With any man who gets to know me.
Why I keep leaving laying loving together,
And end up standing crying lonely.
Laying loving together
To standing crying lonely.
#77 SECOND JOB
(Americana)
I get home, hang up my hard hat
Kitchen table, cold beer, red scraped skin.
You get home, sigh, bottle from the freezer,
I swig my beer, you sip your gin.
Different night, our same places,
You say you hate what I did at O'Grady's.
I say all you do is count my wrongs,
And I wasn't smiling at those ladies.
Tonight the work's starting early,
You're pacing, pointing, shaking your head.
Slam my beer down, chip the bottle.
You roll your eyes, then say "Just like I said."
I get a fresh beer, twist the cap,
Lean against the counter, try hard not to fume.
Say "You can't see a good time when you're in one,"
Stretch my arms out, taking in the room.
One last round of yelling,
As you're packing up to go,
You shout I won't take a telling,
I growl all you know is no.
Leaving's no time for lying,
And your hand's now on the knob.
Loving you is more work,
Than working a second job.
Now so quiet since you left,
TV-watching, soaking in a warm bath
Unwashed dishes, unread mail
Our photos on the walls, I walk right past.
Couple of weeks turn to couple of months,
Back on the apps, dating's been a bust.
Finally start tidying, room by room,
Taking down those wall photos, think about us.
I know I don't miss the yelling,
But I do miss when you'd brush your hair,
And when you'd catch me watching
You smile, small nod, say "Don't just stare."
Lonely's no time for lying,
Kept shouting past each other because
Finding our way to love was more work,
Than us both working second jobs.
I get home, toss the hard hat on a chair
On the couch, cold beer, red scraped skin.
After a while, pull that bottle from the freezer,
Swig my beer, stare at the last of your gin.