One Girl's Story (Roy)

Roy was the random skip in her uneventful meandering in college. Every person has the incurable interest in novelty, and green eyes definitely stood out in a dull palette of black and brown. No matter how excruciating it was to reduce Roy to a cliché, she constantly thought of him as someone who’s “more than meets the eye.” He was an enigma, a puzzle that adamantly refused to be solved. Beyond color, it was his lost-boy charm that merited attention in every girl’s inner Superman. He was poetic and fraught with late-adolescent angst. He saw the world laughing at him, and he would laugh back and flip the finger. He was courageous to a fault, giving people not only a piece of his mind but his fist, as well. He had lived within a wall, figuratively and literally, and he knew that the power of choice was always within his reach. He could choose to reveal himself with whomever he deemed worthy, and still remain safe. Proximity causes judgment, and he had found a way to circumvent the Law of Proximity: the greater the distance, the closer one can allow another into one’s thoughts and pains. He could choose to disappear whenever necessary, which, after a couple of years, he did. And all that was left of Roy was a beautiful recollection of that unexpected voice breaking through her long monologue. That and her song.

Serving Time*

She said they took you in
Took your pictures, and the flashes hurt my eyes
You pressed your fingers to the inkpad
Leaving traces in my heart
I told myself I can’t
Let my blood run through your hands

But you plead guilty
No one told you to
You never knew what you were doing, good for you
But you’ve always been so sure, just as I am sure
The only thing that you don’t know is what you do to me
To me

You talked about setting buildings on fire
And I ask you now why I’m the one going up in flames
But I don’t want to be the ashes off your cigarette
(I’m so glad you quit)
You may be the one behind bars
But I’m the one in prison, and
What’s 30 days to serving time since ‘79
You did say you loved me
But I can’t tell you I loved you more

I’ll take the bus to the North Star
If in exile that’s where you are, and
We’ll French kiss by mail
Though my tongue is sore from licking too much stamps
I’m so unwise, and I can’t breathe
(Did they push you against the wall?)

And you plead guilty
No one told you to
You never knew what you were doing, good for you
But you’ve always been so sure, just as I am sure
The only thing that you don’t know is what you do to me
To me

*Copyright 2002