Tuesday, October 05, 2004


The guitar wailed. A single chord that hummed and pierced through the air. The band stopped at her declaration and looked straight at her. She was looking into the crowd. Through the heads that had been bobbin a moment again and was looking right into my eyes. Her hand shook with anger or terror I never found out. She stood there the statue of a womankind ready to proclaim her independence. As she got herself under control the hand came back up and scrapped her fingers across the strings producing a sound full of pain and anguish.

‘Why are you here still at my door?
You know the feeling every time
I look at your face like reopening a sore
You know I never wanted to see you again
But since you’re here I might as well try
Kiss me before I change my mind
And let us both remember the moment
A swift kiss on the lips. You pull back
Because I bit. Pulling a bit of blood to make you feel
The same pain I feel when your gone.
Now I want you to go before I call the cops.’

She quickly spit out the words after the first line her band picked up the beat and quickly came along. Soon she was out of breath shaking while holding her guitar trying to squeeze the a bit more of music out of it.

‘Hey gabba gabba hey..' At least she paid attention to her punk history class.
'Shut-up… shut-up…
Get the fuck out of my sight’

A quick chorus brought on by her lack of breath after she said it once the drummer and backup guitarist repeated it twice while she stood there staring up at the ceiling letting her hands speak for her through a electric guitar. You could see her chest rise as she took a deep breath as if she was preparing to take a dive into a lake.

‘Memories of slammed and broken doors
Fill my nights as I miss your embrace
Missing the moments I slept in the bathroom
With a knife and a locked door
Because you came home angry and drunk
When it was good it was good
It didn’t make up for the hell you put me through
Now just goooooooooo…….

Hey gabba gabba hey..
Hey gabba gabba hey..
Shut-up… shut-up… shut-up…
Just get the fuck out of my sight’

A chord ended her hands had long since stopped as she collapsed on the stage catching her breath while everyone looked up in amazement. What had started as a mellow night for this place suddenly picked up into something full of energy. Her band mates picked her up and carried her outside while the owner or someone put some old punk music into the sound system. People started moving, the walls started shaking, and I started feeling more and more alone. I drank what was left in my glass and headed out back for a smoke. As I got to the door the drummer was walking back in heading towards the bar and she was sitting there on a step while her guitarist was off in a corner relieving himself. With a cigarette in my mouth I approached her.

‘Hey you got a light?’

'why are you here?'

‘I wanted a smoke’

‘No I mean why are you here’ As she glanced into the club.

'I figured I owed you...'

'you owe me nothing I got the beer'

'I also agreed to listen'

'so then I ask why are you here?' With her free hand she pointed to the ground where I was standing.

'I am here to listen'

'no I mean why are you outside here with me'

'I guess I also wanted to talk.'

'about what the weather or some other lame topic that is rehashed millions of times by those pretending to be interested?'

'no I wanted to talk about you.' She looked at me with surprise and horror on her face. I don’t remember what she said in response but the swiftness she left and the rude gesture brought her meaning across.

As I stood there staring out at the stars I saw she left matches on the step where she had sat. I reached down and grabbed them to light my cigarette. Breathing in deeply I figured I should find another bar for the time being.

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