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Always an Inspiration


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I was seven steps away,

And you three slippery inches

But I?d never been good with words

And even worse with physics

And I asked you why, asked

?Where were the signs??

And you shook your head and smiled.

You?d smiled a lot that week.

?I?m slick, remember?

If I don?t want to be caught,

I can lead you on forever.?

And it looked like everything,

Everything was hanging onto nothing,

Nothing more steady than a strong breeze

And couldn?t I make you remember?

The way we?d scream ?I?m back, Sheridan!?

And whisper something about ?stormy smiles?

And mumble through lyrics we couldn?t decipher,

Fingers operating madly on invisible instruments

That looked more like conniption fits than musicianship?

Wasn?t that good enough?

But I was so short on words!

If only I knew what to say, if only I had a writer,

If only I was a writer.

Or maybe a scripted sentimentalist

With a lexicon of liberating don?t-give-ups.

Anything but the b-movie sidekick

With a fistful of one-liners

And the kind of shifty grin that only works

When in response to the Hero?s wit

Because right now I couldn?t grin to save my life

Or yours.

When you turned around and stepped back down

Ending your brief love affair with gravity

And practically collapsing into the concrete

All I could think about was how I couldn?t say anything

And how it would have been my fault.

I spent every day in the library

Picking up phrases like loose change

And swearing that I?d never,

Never again be short on words.

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Note:

"I'm back, Sheridan" and "stormy smile" are lines from a song called "I'm Back Sleeping or Fucking or Something" by the (now long gone) band Moss Icon. I take no credit for either one, and was simply referencing that song. I figure I could have thrown in something more generic, but I really wanted to nail all the specifics. If Moss Icon wants to get together and sue me, they can go for it.

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You are a writer and a poet, and talented at it. You have insight and humor and you know how to write about the good and the bad in life. You know how to put words together in striking ways, with real characters and plot. Very few people can do even one of those things.

-----

Well, but of course the poem was talking about regrets and self-examination, and concern for a friend and for self, and what can motivate someone beyond their comfort zone.

I get the feeling this was more than just an imagined poem. If you need to talk about something, you do have people here who will listen, on the threads or by private message.

I think you already know that caring deeply goes with the territory of being human, gay or straight, and reasonably intelligent... or at least, caring deeply ought to, although it seems many of the problems are caused by those who don't. Random musings, here.

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If only I was a writer.   :shock:  

I don't think that's a problem. :D

Not anymore, anyway.

You are a writer and a poet, and talented at it. You have insight and humor and you know how to write about the good and the bad in life. You know how to put words together in striking ways, with real characters and plot. Very few people can do even one of those things.

:oops: Aw, shucks.

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