Lucia

I remember Lucia
when she was younger,
and her mother would be
drinking every night.
We’d go out walking
just to forget about
our hunger
in the pale moonlight.

With no idea
how to fill up
all the hours
we sang songs
to sing what could not
be spoken
and those downtown
city streets were ours
till morning had broken.

Which feelings were mine
and which were yours?
Who’s better, Hendrix
or The Doors?
Which is the music
that can soothe our sores
and which just tears them open?

I keep returning to those times
with Lucia,
singing songs and trading rhymes
with Lucia.
Times when the only thing
that I was thinking of
was how to make her sadness
fit mine like a glove.
I was such a simple boy then
with a simple idea
of how to be in love.

A simple idea of how
to be in love.

I remember Lucia
just after her wedding.
The snow was falling
thick on Central Park.
She was taking
her husband’s children sledding.
It was starting to get dark.

She threw her arms
around me when she saw me
but in a little while
there was nothing much to say,
so we walked back
to the train that brought me
as we heard a radio play.

Was that a song I used to sing
or one of yours?
Who was that, Hendrix
or The Doors?
Is it the music
that soothes our sores
or does it just tear them open?

I keep returning to those times
with Lucia,
singing songs and trading rhymes
with Lucia.
Times when the only thing
that I was thinking of
was how to make her sadness
fit mine like a glove.
I was such a simple boy then,
with a simple idea
of how to be in love.

A simple idea of how
to be in love.

I remember Lucia
just after her breakup
in a dive-bar
at the end of a working week.
She was trembling
as she fiddled with her makeup
and I kissed her on the cheek.

But she said: Man, what the hell
do you want from me?
She got up to leave.
She was all red in the face.
And I felt this familiar feeling
overcome me:
I keep getting stuck
in this same place.

But then a jukebox
on the other side of the floor
played “Love Me Two Times,”
by The Doors.
Pretty soon we were laughing
and singing like before.
It is the music that can soothe our sores
though it also tears them open.

I’ll keep returning to those times
with Lucia
singing songs and trading rhymes
with Lucia.
And I know the only thing
I’ll ever be thinking of
is how to make her sadness
fit mine like a glove.
I guess I’m still a simple boy, then,
with a simple idea
of how to be in love.

It’s the only way
I know how
to be in love.

Words and music copyright of Paul Weinfield/Tam Lin Music Publishing (BMI, 2008)
(Image by Joseph Szabo)

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