Used
I wrote another post on the same visual once upon a time. It’s called “Dumbstruck” if you get so inclined to chase it down. I felt like it had really hit the head on a message I had been trying to flesh out for a while, but after writing it I always had this nagging feeling when I read it back through that there was much more I was really gunning for. Chatting with a friend the other night during Indy’s latest East-side flash flood, she reminded me of what I was really trying to say.
Which is where “Used” comes in. It’s probably the most complex story I’ve ever tried to tell. I’ve whittled it down as much as I thought I could and it’s still a bit massive even for me. I still think every line is key, though, and I’m proud of it. Let me know what you think,
I was dumbstruck in the moment
I couldn’t think of a thing to say
when she went jumping across puddles
none too far out of the way
skipping across wet bricks she sang and smiled
I turned the collar on my coat
and held my breath for a while
when she turned to look at me
like she was close to breaking free
the wind caught the words but I could see the morning by morning tragedy
that colored her dreams in blue and green, that made her want but never need
and cut her deep but didn’t let her bleed
like she was made of stone, cast concrete
you’d never know by the way she danced
a slow motion top, loosed from my hands
and the blue in her eyes made the sky look black
I thought how clever it was of God to hide oceans like that
the perfect pale contrast to a rainy afternoon
she liked the feel of my sweatshirt and the wear in my shoes
how could I tell her that she must be confused
that it was all much better, before it all got used
under the careful curve of a wordless smile
one custom fit to match this year’s style
I wanted to wonder why, but had no time
I had wasted it on pondering real life,
and what that had to do with mine
and I came to the conclusion that my most dangerous illusion was time
and that if I wanted to escape with my life
I was better off to just resign
but out on the bricks she danced without beat or time
moving only to the rhythm she heard in her mind
she’d pick her feet up gently twisting her spine
like no one was watching, like traffic wouldn’t mind
sure that in her body breathed something undeniably divine
she did waltzes across the pavement, danced the tango on the center line
she looked like she’d never cried, like she’d never been refused
she reminded me of how elegant our bodies were, before they all got used
and back on the grass, she keeps constant grace
walking towards me at this gunslingers pace
and I’m sure she sees it on my face
sure she sees the struggle I’ve put myself through to juggle
the weight of these fears that serve only as quarantine
for the potential of these thing that rattle around inside of me
stepping softly towards me, she’s the juggler of nothing
leaning in closely, she quietly whispered something
and smiled seeming a bit amused
she said “you know these moments mean nothing
until they all get used like the partially familiar story
of the power of our youth; life’s pretty boring
until you get bruised, and even the most insightful ideas mean nothing
until they get used.”
I realized
There’s no good reason not to dance
no good reason not to laugh at the expanse of it all
that we have a chance at it all, to go out on limbs and fall
to chase dreams that stall and never go anywhere
to waste our time on singing songs and thoughtless prayer
how we’ll pay the light bill, and what jeans to wear
because in the grand scheme they mean just about the same
we’re a limited time offer, this chance never comes again
so if we don’t take the time to dance in the rain
to kiss the faces of fates that we may never name, should we be shuffled off early
we’d have no real proof to explain if we ever stood accused
of returning our hearts, our souls, our bodies, in any other condition but properly
well used
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