Country Death Song
Jul. 13th, 2004 05:57 pmThe sky is so blue and I am soo tired. I keep wanting to hear women singing sad and syrupy scratched and I want a love like one of those long-stem country songs. Thick clumps of white clouds smelling like sweetgrass dragging their way across that sky, the sunlight polarized and pink cutting the trees into dark gnarled silhouettes. How could two boys who are “really” girls have that pale blue kind of love? I admit I still fall back to that truth effect of sex, layers of determination and dignity peeled back and distilled to the pull of fingers. The simple push of hir palms against my back to the boards of some worn wooden house growing in the direction of the wind, hay seeds in the fuzz of my hair. This boy/girl thing is always there for me, for us, but somehow in gravelly tunes that twang against the worn wood of summer fences it’s not there, just heartache and gin and maybe hand-rolled cigarettes shared hunched out the smeared-dirt old glass window. Maybe if I could move my tired limbs outside and pull the sun into my mouth it would pull that person to me, but it’s past solstice, it’s near suppertime and I just can’t believe the damn sky is still so blue.