I truly believe you
I truly believe you















amazing song

What an amazing song, I think, pulling myself back to the present. It’s like some forgotten memory of my past. It’s all about all I lost in four years, a friend, a girl friend, an unborn baby, innocence, myself, although of course it’s really not about me at all. That makes it a great song, when the listener can relate to it like that. And now, because of tonight, it’s “my song,” Some songs have lives all of their very own, intertwining with and frequently enlightening the lives of their receptive beholders.

In most ways, I hate things that make me reflect the recent past. It makes me so lonesome! I came here to forget not remember.

I drive slowly back to my motel still feeling much too sensitive to too many feelings, feelings I usually choose to ignore. I don’t just choose to ignore them; I work to forget them. I think how fortunate I am to have the life I’ve had. I’m healthy, Im alive. Tonight I go to a concert, should be no big deal, but then I’m self-confronted with my present, and a renewed recognition of each human’s life being a separate saga. So now, this song is part of my own personal soundtrack.

And I only intended to have an evening of entertainment.

I get back to the motel and I can’t believe it’s so warm in October. I wish my motel room had a big screen window like the Armadillo. I doze restlessly with my mind half-awake, uncomfortable in my rented bed, never really giving in to the pleasure of dreams. I’m still awake as the sun creeps up on the eastern horizon.

After a few cups of coffee, I am back in my regular body, in my regular humor, ready to hit the road for home. It was a lovely though strange evening, and I am still humming that tune as I speed into San Angelo, not quit halfway home. It means something to me that I yet don’t understand.

Back in Amarillo. Hello, heaven? Goodbye, memories?

I don’t unpack. The next afternoon I wave goodbye to Amarillo.again, near Albuquerque at a road side park, slumped over in my seat, head against the window. Daylight, nighttime, daylight again. Nothing rouses me.