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Description
A poem about the end of an affair. Spoken, trying to avoid the sense of bitterness, although not the exhaustion of its aftermath. Music in collaboration with TobinMueller: stand-up bass by Ron Carter; organ by Tobin. Although this poem is about an actual actress, how many of us know people who are just this sort of actress (even if they don't have their Equity card yet)? Artwork is "Mimmi" by Steven Haag-Stahlberg.
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Lyrics
the cigarette...
your hands work as if on stage
a sudden graft of someone else’s elegance
elbows relaxed and eyebrows arched
within the practiced context of props
and their finely scripted securities
patterns change, of speech and gesture
as eyes squint through curling smoke
someone else’s eyes
and the deftly lit cigarette fills your mouth
someone else’s mouth
cool words vent with the mouth’s exhaust
no longer the oracle that sang to me like a kiss
cool words and heated smoke screening
your face, and I wonder
how many people there are inside you burning
like a sparkler flashing on the fourth of july
the end of your smoldering hand traces
the space, the growing space that encircles you,
smoke defining in the busy night air
the conversation’s end
looking offstage as if for a prompt
you try to say what is already in one eye
and take a drag, tasting the sound
then finally the words, arrogant as a thrower’s knives
“I can’t handle this yet, you know? Not yet. Not me.”
and it all seems so reasonable
as you nod, agreeing with yourself
and each promise made is lanced like a balloon
and each sweet vow is swallowed
as the scrolls of our moments,
poems all (i had believed),
are rolled and stuffed and turned to ash
then casually flicked into the oncoming traffic
in the time it takes for another match to flare
2004 © Tobin James Mueller
your hands work as if on stage
a sudden graft of someone else’s elegance
elbows relaxed and eyebrows arched
within the practiced context of props
and their finely scripted securities
patterns change, of speech and gesture
as eyes squint through curling smoke
someone else’s eyes
and the deftly lit cigarette fills your mouth
someone else’s mouth
cool words vent with the mouth’s exhaust
no longer the oracle that sang to me like a kiss
cool words and heated smoke screening
your face, and I wonder
how many people there are inside you burning
like a sparkler flashing on the fourth of july
the end of your smoldering hand traces
the space, the growing space that encircles you,
smoke defining in the busy night air
the conversation’s end
looking offstage as if for a prompt
you try to say what is already in one eye
and take a drag, tasting the sound
then finally the words, arrogant as a thrower’s knives
“I can’t handle this yet, you know? Not yet. Not me.”
and it all seems so reasonable
as you nod, agreeing with yourself
and each promise made is lanced like a balloon
and each sweet vow is swallowed
as the scrolls of our moments,
poems all (i had believed),
are rolled and stuffed and turned to ash
then casually flicked into the oncoming traffic
in the time it takes for another match to flare
2004 © Tobin James Mueller
TobinMueller
I like the way the music flows underneath, hip and distant
and almost like walking... and stopping... with a few hits
here and there to accentuate the text. A nice visual. Your
voice is pretty low key, tho, considering the frustration of
such a fulcrum moment... even tho "The Actress" is
playing it that way. I'd have used more emotions, less
subtle, but I get what you're going for. Thanks for the
great work and appreciation. The edits you made to the
text are, again, improvements!