Monday, April 8, 2013

You're Gonna Make me Give Myself a Good Talkin' To

He thought that one of her best songs was a Dylan tune, seemingly because it was in a low register for her.  Which was easy, soft and even sexy.

She often avoided things which came too easily for her.  Or made her appear too attractive.  Her subconscious reasoning was to e dismissive of people who liked the simplest things about her.  Somehow she wanted someone who wanted her for all the difficult bits, for the strength of her valor and determination.  And who would fight for her.  Even against the strongest, fiercest enemy.  Which was her.

Even when she figured this out about herself, she couldn't undo the spell.

But he liked it for all the things she wasn't conscious of.  How sincerely she seemed to sing it.  Of course, he imagined that she was always singing it to him, for him, telling him how much she will and does miss him when they are apart.  Without the artificial sentimentality, without any useless romantic promises, with or without sex, with of without music.

He imagined her singing it after his death.

It was quite a remarkable thing, for her to even continue this weird, funny, delightful acquaintance with a man who was only getting older.  Useless to her in terms of fame, money or husbandship or a potential father or employer.

He couldn't imagine why she stayed, and agreed to keep joining him on all these funny tours.  Except for this song.  She misses him.

And he couldn't imagine anyone missing him.

*You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go

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