Child of the City

Santa Monica Boulevard
every Sunday
the same blocks passed by through blurry windows,
Kate smoking those candy-coloured mile-long cigarettes,
Jamie in the backseat
mixing drinks
Weldon gawking at all the pretty boys
the billboards
Mike rattling off his latest latests
me singing along to ‘Lovecats‘ for the umpteenth time
sipping rum and cokes
and driving
the miscalculations of youth

And I don’t suggest the life I led
heavy lids
knee high boots
fishnets
vials of speed
licorice lipstick kisses in the stall of the ladies room
but those my friend
those were the days

Jesse in his haze of too much desire
his hair smelling of tobacco and lush lusty dreams
cherry kisses against a graffiti streaked wall
his saliva stuck in the wisps of my hair
clinging to my addicted heart
how I wanted to take him forever
at least for a week
maybe longer
in the car
on the road
maybe all the way to Boston
and back

The torrential rains of vodka
wakeful nights
watching the sun come up atop a train tunnel
Leo singing ‘Robert DeNiro’s Waiting’
like he was waiting
for something to happen
Kate and I singing-a-long
swaying
a cascade of leaves stuck in our hair
from the climb
the bushes
our sweat mingling in between
the wind

We were always each other’s shadow
sister caretaker
partner in crime
running to catch up to everything and anything
never wanting to miss
fall behind
falter

The last time I drove down Santa Monica it seemed to have faded
my car too quiet
the streets full of faces without names
to attach
missing distractions
for me

I still sing to ‘Lovecats‘
when they play it
even if it is a “flashback weekend”
but no backseat bartender is with me
no colorful ashes on the floor
no seats with stains and stories

just my memory
the tales hidden behind my eyes
for these streets
of the misspent nights
were part and parcel to
the time of my life

Lovecats :: The Cure