Past Once Upon A Time
by
Walter Jones
(Age: 62)
copyright 03-20-2008
Age Rating: 16 to 127
In the mirror I dance for the light to hold a candle to the starlight
Pretty little words fall into the glass of wine and the tears of youth
Call a troubled youth back to places in honor faded by truth
I touch you again as a heart beat escapes to two in one sound
Halls in method acting stage plays to give a lusty heard
Shed pulls clothes into warm bodies seeking answers unknown
Walls close into the well needed to succeed at practice fed
Fled from our hearts content to make the day night joy
Days run over the happy feeling of two passion met and filed away
Over a trace of hot lingering coals as skin and souls play need
Praise in image and want take the heart and body into a place stronger than love
More of the dangled fire in eyes crying out for more than lovers cast
Bright sparkles of dew on a spider web woven in love needed as lies keep
Swells of pride a perfect body given as a gift to the stars tasting perfection
Night hides the want as need succumbs to the pleasure shared beyond
Tell stories to the heartbreak on flame left on fire in grown up lessons let
Wakes a fear in doubt on edge of pleasures seeking a mercy created late
Gives a palace rant in scream going so fast to life we shed our heart done
Breaks of silence a must past holes drunk by vision blurred us falling
Lives kept us in dust dirt held by riddles needed to succeed
In the tavern we waltz to the songs of age played harder than time given a chance
So perfect we bend to each curve almost as one in a shade of life long gone
As the day fades into eyes of blue and pools of truth linger in a soul left
And the bed is warm and the kisses almost on queue as last dance played
Too many beers and way too many tears caught in life struggle
Author Notes
Sequel Lyrics
Artist: Harry Chapin (Buy Harry Chapin CDs)
So here she's actin' happy inside her handsome home
And me, I'm flyin' in my taxi, takin' tips and gettin' stoned.
I got into town a little early.
Had eight hours to kill before the show.
First I thought about heading up north of the bay
Then I knew where I had to go.
I thought about taking a limousine
Or at least a fancy car.
But I ended up taking a taxi
'Cause that's how I got this far.
You see, ten years ago it was the front seat
Drivin' stoned and feelin' no pain.
Now here I am straight and sittin' in the back
Hitting Sixteen Parkside Lane.
The driveway was the same as I remembered
And a butler came and answered the door.
He just shook his head when I asked for her
And said "She doesn't live here anymore."
But he offered to give me the address
That they were forwarding her letters to.
I just took it and returned to the cabbie
And said "I got one more fare for you."
And so we rolled back into the city
Up to a five store old brownstone
I rang the bell that had her name on the mailbox.
The buzzer said somebody's home.
And the look on her face as she opened the door
Was like an old joke told by a friend.
It'd taken ten more years but she'd found her smile
And I watched the corners start to bend.
And she said, "How are you Harry?
Haven't we played this scene before?"
I said "It's so good to see you, Sue
Had to play it out just once more."
Play it out just once more.
She said I've heard you flying high on my radio
I answered "It's not all it seems"
That's when she laughed and she said, "It's better sometimes
When we don't get to touch our dreams."
That's when I asked her where was that actress
She said "That was somebody else"
And then I asked her why she looked so happy now
She said "I finally like myself, at last I like myself."
So we talked all through that afternoon
Talking about where we'd been
We talked of the tiny difference
Between ending and starting to begin.
We talked because talking tells you things
Like what you really are thinking about.
But sometimes you can't find what you're feeling
Till all the word run out.
So I asked her to come to the concert.
She said "No, I work at night."
I said, "We've gotten too damn good at leaving, Sue"
She said, "Harry, you're right."
Don't ask me if I made love to her
Or which one of us started to cry
Don't ask me why she wouldn't take the money that I left
If I answered at all I'd lie.
So I thought about her as I sang that night
And how the circle keeps rolling around.
How I act as I'm facing the footlights
And how she's flying with both feet on the ground.
I guess it's a sequel to our story
From the journey 'tween heaven and hell
With half the time thinking of what might have been
and half thinkin' just as well.
I guess only time will tell.
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How many times have we read works that not only present us with some of life's realities, but that are so vivid in their painful imageries and sounds and textures and scents and scenes of life being played, that they hurt? Maybe too many, too often. Maybe too few, too seldom. Regardless, there are times when your work scrapes open barely healed wounds and forces me to look at my own history. And in such a way that I must do that looking honestly. Without hiding behind the glamor of a pretty word, or the skirts of a well-turned phrase.
This work has done that. Which carries no blame or criticism to you or your pen, but is rather like remembering the ghosts of a night train's whistle on a warm, summer night letting me know its cargo is my life, my youth, my loves.
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