I wish I had a river

River :: Robert Downey, Jr.

I’m so hard to handle,
I’m selfish and I’m sad,
now I’ve gone and lost the best baby that I ever had

I love covers which are a switch of gender from the original. There is something so interesting in the differences, and samenesses, of a song sung by an opposite, and it is in the in-betweens of different and same that I think draws me in the most. This version, sung by my all-time favorite actor, feels more sad and heartbroken, and tugs on my own love gone wrong/love lost memories. It reminds me of times I have had to walk away, holding back tears, clinging to songs as strength, regret ringing like church bells in my ears.

Each step requires wide eyed attention,
visible breath like tendrils of memory,
left a bit longer then the last words spoken,
spin a finger through as it all but disappears.

Passerby overheard sentiments,
you catch some pieces and fill in the rest,
snapshots from someone else’s show;
we are all just hand held parts of the act.

The grime of trodden pavement,
all stage and spotlight to slip around,
or take a seat,
and become the daily audience participation.

Clap your hands.
Raise a fis
Blink twice and risk missing an undefined something,
worthy of this scissor snipped cutout,
or tears cried in regret.

Might just tuck it in a sweater sleeve,
along with my memories,
as you make this unwanted escape,
only half as much to drag along now,
but volumes reside beneath my skin.

This city will linger well past morning,
with my tears trickling down into the gutters of forget.

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