Rhythm In Four Parts
I. Like a Dream of Blue
You surprised me this evening on my way back home
as I looked out over the cooling pavement to find you
standing in the same place that I had left you two weekends ago
on the last night of summer, when we had the long talk
about the meaning of the streetlights and their rhythms.
I didn’t know that you would be there all that time,
waiting for me, when I told you that I wouldn’t,
and couldn’t,
come back to see you.
Maybe when the end has come you’ll still be holding on,
and maybe you won’t, I don’t know.
I think that, in the end, all I really do know is
that the sky is not supposed to be blue,
as though blue were something I thought of once as I was dreaming.
In my dream, blue was put together,
Put together with something other than what it should have been,
like a tree or a bear, and was merged with it.
(For that is the way with dreams)
I can’t be certain whether the thing I was dreaming had anything to do with the sky, except for the change in the seasons,
which reflects itself in the sky like a leaf floats in the waters of a stream,
bobbing up and down.
As I walked by you, you didn’t even seem to know I was there,
even though I kept looking in your direction,
thinking that you would at least call out or do something
to show that you knew I was there.
But NO!
You stood and stared at the door as though it would suddenly open
and I would stand before you and invite you
inside for a glass of orange juice.
(even though you hate all juices)
Maybe when the sky falls, you’ll have somewhere to hang your hat,
and maybe you won’t, I don’t know.
II. Reflection
I think I may have been wrong about a few things,
which surprises me,
because I’ve grown accustomed to being right
about everything,
or nearly everything,
excluding the one episode with the stars and
the angle
of the roof.
I don’t suppose that you would still hold something so trivial against me.
How could you? It didn’t mean anything anyway.
It was only an argument
followed by a kiss.
Don’t things like that happen to people all the time?
Hasn’t that ever happened to you before?
It’s happened to me so many times that I forgot to remember them all.
(and something tells me that’s a good thing)
I don’t know if I can trust someone who’s never had that happen to them before.
Lately, I have the strangest feeling, like I’m
being watched by someone who’s not there at all.
It makes me shudder,
particularly late at night, after I’ve turned off the television
and, for a second, just a second,
I think I see someone behind me in the glass.
Or maybe the person I see isn’t behind me at all.
Maybe it’s in the TV itself, watching me from its prison of wires and plastic.
I don’t know.
What surprises me most is that you still don’t say anything to me.
You must know I’m here.
Why are you still staring at the door?
I never took you for a fool before.
III. Nobody’s Home
So, I wanted to tell you what happened to me yesterday,
but I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.
What luck to find you
here! Now!
I was waiting for a table at a restaurant,
and in walks this guy without a shirt on.
When he asked for a table for five, the host said no.
The man couldn’t understand why! Not for the life of him!
I knew that you loved stories like that, and I’m so happy,
Now that I was able to finally tell you.
What’s happened to you?
Did you hear me at all?
You’re not even smiling!
What’s happened to you?
I don’t understand.
I want to know why you treat me like this,
staring at the door like I wasn’t even standing here
talking to you.
Can’t you see that the lights are out,
and no one’s home?
Have you become blind, as well as deaf?
What’s happened to me, for that matter? I wish I knew.
IV. Talking In Circles Again
So now it’s over.
Done, finished, without a penny to its name.
Whatever IT is.
I don’t understand what happened, maybe I never will.
Does the world really spin in circles?
Talk about going nowhere.
I will never spin in circles.
So I’ve been waiting over here,
leaning on a fire hydrant, talking to you.
(or am I just talking to myself?)
You haven’t answered yet, but I’m hopeful that will change.
It’s not as though I need you to answer,
but I don’t want to walk away from you for the last time (again)
with you being rude like this.
I wish that I could be free of you, and know now that I never will.
This makes no sense,
this crossing
and double-crossing
of
what I’m saying.
Maybe I don’t know what I mean, or want, at all, and maybe I do. I don’t know.
I really thought that we would last.
I thought that our present would never be past.
I thought that, when all was said and done,
we’d always have each other, and that would be enough.
I was wrong.
So, goodnight, dear lover, don’t wait by the door anymore.
I’m not coming home.
