Goodbye Until Tomorrow
Don't kiss me goodbye again.
Leave this night clean and quiet.
You want the last word,
You want me to laugh,
But leave it for now.
All you can say,
All you can feel
Was wrapped up inside that one perfect kiss.
Leave it at that:
I'll watch you turn the corner and go...
And goodbye until tomorrow.
Goodbye until the next time you call,
And I will be waiting.
I will be waiting.
Goodbye until tomorrow.
Goodbye 'til I recall how to breathe,
And I have been waiting,
I have been waiting for you.
I stand on a precipice.
I struggle to keep my balance.
I open myself,
I open myself one stitch at a time.
Finally yes!
Finally now!
Finally something takes me away.
Finally free!
Finally he can cut through these strings,
And open my wings!
So goodbye until tomorrow!
Goodbye until my feet touch the floor,
And I will be waiting,
I will be waiting!
Goodbye until tomorrow!
Goodbye until the rest of my life
And I have been waiting,
I have been waiting for you!
Waiting for you,
-Jason Roberts Brown, in The Last Five Years , a most excellent composer and a most excellent musical
Leave this night clean and quiet.
You want the last word,
You want me to laugh,
But leave it for now.
All you can say,
All you can feel
Was wrapped up inside that one perfect kiss.
Leave it at that:
I'll watch you turn the corner and go...
And goodbye until tomorrow.
Goodbye until the next time you call,
And I will be waiting.
I will be waiting.
Goodbye until tomorrow.
Goodbye 'til I recall how to breathe,
And I have been waiting,
I have been waiting for you.
I stand on a precipice.
I struggle to keep my balance.
I open myself,
I open myself one stitch at a time.
Finally yes!
Finally now!
Finally something takes me away.
Finally free!
Finally he can cut through these strings,
And open my wings!
So goodbye until tomorrow!
Goodbye until my feet touch the floor,
And I will be waiting,
I will be waiting!
Goodbye until tomorrow!
Goodbye until the rest of my life
And I have been waiting,
I have been waiting for you!
Waiting for you,
-Jason Roberts Brown, in The Last Five Years , a most excellent composer and a most excellent musical
posted by dyingember at 6:06 PM
1 Comments:
A Color of the Sky
Windy today and I feel less than brilliant,
driving over the hills from work.
There are the dark parts on the road
when you pass through clumps of wood
and the bright spots where you have a view of the ocean,
but that doesn’t make the road an allegory.
I should call Marie and apologize
for being so boring at dinner last night,
but can I really promise not to be that way again?
And anyway, I’d rather watch the trees, tossing
in what certainly looks like sexual arousal.
Otherwise it’s spring, and everything looks frail;
the sky is baby blue, and the just-unfurling leaves
are full of infant chlorophyll,
the very tint of inexperience.
Last summer’s song is making a comeback on the radio,
and on the highway overpass,
the only metaphysical vandal in America has written
MEMORY LOVES TIME
in big black spaypaint letters,
which makes me wonder if Time loves Memory back.
Last night I dreamed of X again.
She’s like a stain on my subconscious sheets.
Years ago she penetrated me
but though I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed,
I never got her out,
but now I’m glad.
What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle
What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel.
What I thought was an injustice
turned out to be a color of the sky.
Outside the youth center, between the liquor store
and the police station,
a little dogwood tree is losing its mind;
overflowing with blossomfoam,
like a sudsy mug of beer;
like a bride ripping off her clothes,
dropping snow white petals to the ground in clouds,
so Nature’s wastefulness seems quietly obscene.
It’s been doing that all week:
making beauty,
and throwing it away;
and making more.
- Tony Hoagland
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