“Hey Sugar. Why don’t you come on up here, and cut loose those lungs hiding under such a pretty… dress.” The guitar player was just meandering through various chords. He was just making noise to have noise present. The drummer was almost asleep from the repetition.
“I don’t know any good songs, Sirrah. And I only know a few of the basic chords.”
He took a sip of something like whiskey and held his glass out to me. “You just need to wet your whistle, Honey. I think you know lots’a good songs. You just ain’t never been given leave to let it out. I knows where you walk. And I knows some’a your stories. And I know you’s good at telling other folk’s stories… and songs… but sometimes, you need to tell your own.”
A few folks from the table behind me not so gently nudged me forward. “Now, you be a good girl, prolly for the first time in y’life, and come up here and kiss my glass for good luck. Don’t worry about keeping up with us. We gotta worry ’bout keeping up with you.”
I came up and took his glass. I planted a big kiss on the side of it, knowing damn well that wasn’t what he meant. I winked at him and smiled. He laughed heartily. I took a sip. The tub liquor burned down my throat and made my heartflame rage.
Everyone chuckled while I regained the ability to breathe. The player strummed down to a low bassy chord. “So… anything you wanna spill? I wanna know.”
“You want to know? I want to know!” A thought seized me. I want to know. I thought about a person I have oft wanted to say those words to. The drummer woke up, played a little bridge, and the band became silent and waiting. I turned to the mic, touched it gently, and began…
I want to know
How you want to see me.
I want to know
What mask you think I wear.
I want to know
The proper way to be me.
I want to know
Who you see standing here.
I want to know
The words you wish I told you.
I want to know
The way you wish I loved you.
I want to know
If you could remake me would you.
I want to know
What you see before you.
For both you and I,
we can not deny
that we do not see
through each others eyes.
And because that can’t change
you will rearrange
the way that you see
‘til all comes unchained.
But all of your lies,
and all of your cries
have only opened
my blinded eyes to the truth… of you…
And the cage built for me
remains empty, you see.
Vain wishing only snares
one wishing to live in fantasy…
Such a tragedy…
Catastrophe…
That you and me…
Will never meet…
Though we sit day by day…
A room away…
A broken seam…
A gulf between…
I want to know
Why you think that you own me.
I want to know
Why you think you can shape me.
I want to know
Who you think I’m becoming.
I want to know
Who you thought I was.
I want to know
Why you think life is like TV.
I want to know
Why you hide behind your money.
I want to know
What will never be my fate.
I want to know
The reflection that is you…
For the day is soon near,
that day that you fear,
when I will be gone,
when there’s no one here.
I’ll take off and fly.
Take my place in the sky.
Come into my own,
Soaring freely so high.
No more stabs in the dark.
No more playing a part.
I know who I am.
My unquenchable heart
will burn… you… away…!
…
The crowd was clapping. I was crying. I felt exposed and embarrassed. They pleaded for another song, but I was suddenly very self-conscious and aware of where I was. I feared I had said too much already. I turned to the guitar player and kissed his face. He chuckled the way old men chuckle when they let slip just how young they are.
“Go on, Honey. I know you’re not one for the stage. You did well. Anytime you need to show off that lovely chest of yours, come back. I’ll play for you anytime.” I tried to sneak off the bar stage, to no avail of course. I heard him say behind me, “Mmm… I loved to see you come, but how I love to see you leave. Oh Honey, you’re conflicting me!”
As I left the bar, he was using his last words to me to launch into a raunchy song appreciating the glory that is a woman’s ass in a tight red dress.