Some Things Need To Be Said

These are postings from the dark -- a collection of things I scribbled during the week my power went out and my breath plumed in small pools of candlelight.

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Throwing back my head and searching for the Milky Way I said, play me a song. Play me a good song -- something I can press my hips against.

Inside I grabbed a glass of wine and laughed as I stained my lips a deep red. I thought, play me something raw that means everything, but make it small, so I can hold it in my hand. Make it fit. I can't handle too much, just bits and pieces.

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The minute I understood I was doomed I looked back and saw my stupid heart a thousand miles behind. Are you coming? I wondered. Hurry.

When I was 18 the world was coated in gold and I was going to touch all of it.

I don't feel so free anymore. I never would have guessed that I would be rumbling along years later in a really old Ford while warm night air coaxed fog from a fluke October snow on the ground, throwing ghosts in front of my headlights.

I had fever dreams and I heard a demon. He told me, you have said things no one has ever said to me before. My friend Tim died about a year ago, but he told me something that just keeps making sense: some things need to be said.