Between Here and Gone


Tonight the moon came up.
It was nearly full.
Way down here on earth
I could feel its pull.
The weight of gravity
Of just the moon light
Made me want to leave
My only home tonight.
I’m just wondering
How we know where we belong.
Is it in a photograph,
Or a dashboard poet’s song.
Well I have missed my chance
To right some ancient wrong -
Should I find myself between
Here and gone.
I could grab my keys
And peel out in my truck
With every saint on board
Bringing me their luck.
I could drive too fast
Like a midnight sleeve,
As if there was a way to
Out run the grief.
I’m just wondering
How we know where we belong.
In a song that’s left behind
Or a dream I couldn’t wake from -
Could I have felt the brush
Of a soul that’s passed someone,
Somewhere in between
Here and gone?
Up above me
Wayward angels:
A blur of wings and gray.
One for courage, one for
Safety, one for just in case.
I thought a light went out
But now a candle shines.
I thought my tears wouldn’t stop
then I dried my eyes.
And after all of this the truth
that holds me here,
Is that this emptiness is
Something not to fear.
Yeah, I’ll keep wondering
How we know where we belong,
After all the journeys made
And the journeys yet to come,
when I feel like giving up
Instead of going on,
Somewhere in between. . .

And I’m wondering how we know where
We belong.
Is it in the arc of the moon,
Leaving shadows on the lawn>
In the path of fireflies
And a single bird at dawn -
singing in between
Here and gone?

thank you mary chapin carpenter...

girl's like me aren't hard to find,
we grow like roses on the vine.
we wear our hearts on our sleeves
you probably know a girl like me.

we live alone and in our heads
we eat standing up or in our beds.
guilt and filth merge easily
in the quiet soul of girls like me.

and loneliness is like a cold
common and no cure we're told
we take to bed perchance to dream
in the blue light of the t.v. screen.

girls like me like summer light
and cold beer on a summer night
and boys who aren't afraid of what they see
inside the eyes of girls like me.

and hope finesses like a drug,
it makes a girl believe in love
and if somehow you love us back
we think there's something wrong with that.

girls like me aren't hard to trust
your deepest secret's safe with us.
and when it's time to set you free
you can always count on girls like me.

it's good to know a girl like me.

you used to love a girl like me.

just got in from the theater where I had intended to only unload a
truck of mulch but when I arrived they were setting up for a private
party, and the hostess -- whom I'd met once before -- pulled me aside
and asked how to get rid of the kids who kept coming into the
building uninvited. 'what kids? where?' "those kids, there." those
kids there were weeeeeee small ones. so I introduced myself to them,
the oldest was 9 the youngest 4, and man were they bored. so I gave
them all something to do and together we built a flower bed. only
one of those kids was bad -- you can tell she was eaten up w/ it --
one was a staunch follower, and the others were really good kids,
just needed some direction. we had a good time playing in the dirt,
but of course w/ that many little ones it takes so much longer to do
the simplest things. so, my one hour task took about four and I
still didn't finish, but we did manage to walk to Dairy Queen and
back. I felt like the Pied Piper.

the analogy is this... a little girl, wading through shallow river water, the bottom a muck of sticky yet maleable mud -- the kind that you can pull yourself from if strong enough, but it may take some doing. it won't suck you under, as in quick sand, but it can cause you stay put for a while. so the little girl, she is wading along this river with its bank on one side and a canopy of low hanging, overgrown trees on the other. it is shady, but the sun peeks through where it can.

on the bank is a picnic, people she knows, some she does not. she's collecting tiny mollusks as she goes along, oblivious to the darkening water until her step ceases to propel her forward. no matter that she struggles to free herself, she is bound to the muddy bottom. sand and mussles in her hands, she looks to the shore and sees it suddenly vacant. no one there anymore. the feast is still there, though, so she thinks her people are still close, but there's no one ... right ... there... to help her to the bank. she feels helplessly, hopelessly, alone.

how will she get to the shore?

tuesday conversation in zippy's world...

me: So this is your big scheme, eh?

him: TOTALLY! if the post office charges them even first class rate on the envelopes we send back full of their own stupid paperwork, unsigned, crumbled and shredded, we're BOUND to be blacklisted by the credit card companies! HAHA! TAKE THAT stupid credit card companies for making our names available for credit theft!

me: We should go have sex.

him: Before we fall asleep?

me: Yeah.

him: Ok. Let me catch my breath first.

me: All the excitement of stuffing that last envelope?

him: YEAH!

it was mr. zippy's birthday yesterday, and he survived w/out serious injury to himself, thanks.

conversation in zippy's world as I played w/ his new iPod:


him: That game's on the old one, too, you know.

me: Really? Ooh! got two that time!!

him: You can play it when I give it to you.

me: Oh, honey, you know I won't. I have games on my cell phone I've never used. Ooh! Ooh!! Ahh, rats. Missed by one brick.

him: Was it fun?

me: It's always fun until someone gets hurt.

him: Ok, give me back my birthday present.