Sometimes when I pick up the guitar and play, I'll hit a note. The note. I hesitate to say the "right" note because it is ephemeral. Everything is. Trying to understand the "E" word. Anyway, notes came, tears flowed, notes went, pictures glowed, and all was wrong and right with the world all at once. Ephemera. Never quite clear. Just on the edge of focus, followed by another roll.
I used to want someone to get it. I don't know that is realistic. I don't know much of anything anymore. I was supposed to take the highway, but I couldn't find my ride. Lost in a sea of cars. And pushing a wicked wheelbarrow trying to carry my baggage across the rough hewn field. The lamp fell off, my friends went on ahead, as I sat and berated myself for not noting the color or the letter or the number. Nothing to go on. And no one to say, "hey, remember this one..."
This is the night
Of the expanding the man
I take one last drag
As I approach the stand
I cried when I wrote this song
Sue me if I play too long
This brother is free
I'll be what I want to be
