Pete McDonald: Music

You Again

I met you on the Metro and
you had your headphones on.
It was a quarter past your birthday
and the summer was halfway gone.
Hanging out with the AV guys at the local university.
I’ll never forget the first time
you put your music in me.
You put your music in me.

On the 4th of July near the monument
we took off our shoes in the grass.
We shook our stuff to the junkanoo beat
and the baddest James Brown brass.
I left my camera in a taxi heading
someplace where we could be free.
I left my favorite shirt on your clothesline
but I kept the memory.
I have kept your memory.

There were nights we didn’t get to sleep,
when we syncopated with the dawn.
There were afternoons of silence
and hours with the keyboards on.
You had a sink full of dirty dishes,
you had a suitcase packed with charm.
You had some tenure with the bottle,
but you knew how to keep me warm.
You knew how to keep me warm.

I woke up on the parking strip
one morning and you weren’t there.
In the middle of the night you took a trip
for that upstate New York air.
And I didn’t know what I wanted
when I was only twenty two.
So I let you ride, and I kept my pride,
but I’m carrying a piece of you.
I’m still carrying a piece of you.

And that sunlight coming through the clouds
looks like the rays of god
and I find a kind of shabby grace
walking on this dusty road.
I’m staying one step ahead of the lightning,
I’m taking detours around the rain.
No matter how lost you think you are,
I’m gonna find you again.
I’m gonna find you again.