Crescent Moon On The Highway
Lying here on this cold and misty Sunday afternoon
Cat on his blanket at my feet
The threat of rain outside my shuttered windows
I listen to Villanelle For Our Times by the master
Of the rough and tender voice
His verse running down my spine like a lover's fingers
Crooning bittersweet lyric into my ears with his distant tongue
The melody caresses me and makes me senseless
As he repeats "bitter searching of the heart" over and over and over
Until images conjure up from memory and lay themselves down
Upon my mind
You, in that convertible under the stars on that long ago highway
We were laughing like mad people, kissing more than paying attention
Music soaring on the radio and trailing off behind us into the desert wind
My hair whipping around us like long black scarves
And thinking that if I could die of joy, then I would surely die
We were racing under clear cold skies looking for rain and storm
Loving lightning and angry clouds
But finding none, we drove on into the night
Listening to Leonard and holding each other hard enough to bruise
Look, baby, you said and pointed to a crescent moon hanging low
In the sky on the side of the highway a thousand miles from nowhere
And we pulled over and danced underneath that moon
Toasted it with champagne and kisses no one had ever kissed before
While the music trailed off into silence and clicked to a stop as we
Stood in the glow of the headlights, our eyes locked onto one another
And our hearts as close as hearts can be
That long ago highway and that crescent moon and you
With your crooked smile and wind blown hair
How it all comes back to me now
Damn you, Leonard, with your bitter searching of the heart and your
Rough and tender poet's voice
Bringing the past alive and spotlighting the present with it's loneliness
And loss
Damn you, Leonard.
By Voo
December 4, 2005 5 p.m.
Sunday afternoon
Written while listening to Leonard Cohen's new CD Dear Heather.
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