#74 THAT NEIGHBOR GIRL & THE SUMMER STORM
#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.
Her dad's truck hit our bumper, spun off in a ditch.
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.