| In an intimate hall At Warren Wilson College The students anticipating David Wilcox' playing. He stole us away with what he'd written that day "Language of the Heart" a crumpled letter to his old love We were captured in his strumming hands I went to see him every chance that I had. At McDibbs on thursdays for $3.50 Then he played fridays and saturdays $4.50, then $5, then $7.50 Then he opened for the Indigo Girls And I went off to college, Where I saw him for $12 scalped tickets in a sold-out show. Then I moved to San Francisco Far, far away from home... At first he sang of newness and hope and life. Then the loneliness of growing older Then of love and sex and settling down Then of his family and his home Then it came back around again to newness and hope and life... Well, of course I fell in love with him! Didn't we all in those days? And got over him like any heartbreak. And I listened to his songs, like telephone calls Keeping up with his life and his new wife and his son. The delicious bittersweetness Of the friendship of a long-ago love... And on with my own life Like old love that's moved away Got my dream job in the Bay Area Built the firefall at Burning Man And found my own true love Found meanings of my own In those "settle down" songs... And I want to call you up, David, and say, "don't be a stranger!" I want to catch you up on what I've been up to. But who am I but a face in the audience? Singing harmony to your unpublished songs? This intimacy is only in me. Forever, you'll never know my life or my friendship... I'm nothing more than a stranger... |