We met in a Bar
We met in a bar, in LA, in the sixties
You were playing your first gig,
I had not yet been born.
We touched by accident, on purpose,
As a demonstration,
There was a spark (the air was dry,
Electrostatics at play), we simply did not let go.Wandering through cherry blossoms
I told you our story: we would meet once again,
Have three kids, last thirteen years.
Later, it would all be as if we never had met,
Except for three lives, heartache, endless what-ifs.
We would always love, always regret meeting,
Spiralling into extasy, conflagration, letting go.The moment passed, the mirrors disaligned,
Our hands slipped… … …You had to play an encore,
I had to get ready
To be born.
Leave a Reply