Vacant & Alive

Holding Absence, Webster Hall, New York, NY

Blue is vacant,

Blue is alive.

Blue with the crowd,

I stand here quietly proud.

Pushing, circling, stopping and going.

Lights go out.

Pits in my stomach sinking with song,

I’m shaken by a familiar yearning to belong.

Tiny fires blazing up above,

Who are you when push comes to shove?

Acting out of character, reveling in the scene.

If only for a moment, I embrace the nude and the serene.

Observing, observing, opposite to emotion.

Only mildly intoxicated, I coexist with the commotion.

Firing, wiring,

Oh no, there goes a little desiring.

Neural yes and neural no,

My body doesn’t know the meaning of slow.

Number yes and number next,

Left awaiting the impossible text.

Absence held and nothingness felt,

Guess that’s another notch on my belt.

Have I always been this brave?

Have I always been this fun?

Have I always been one stroke away from glistening under my own sun?

Green with the tides,

Seated under black and white skies.

Blue is vacant,

Blue is alive.

Luck of the Irish, pick of the Polish.

Right place and wrong time,

I can be quite devilish.

Green with the tides, I take in your touch with an unexpected stride.

White in the foam, white in the sky,

It didn’t take much to fantasize.

Pulled into the undertow,

Lost in the afterglow.

It could be nothing, the story’s not real.

I wish it changed the automatic way it makes me feel.

I stand on my own,

My footing steadies the rugged undertones.

Okay either way — this table wobbles no more.

Pillars propped up one by one,

Is this how secure people get it done?

Yes, no, yes,

Dare I be a little selfish?

Dare I feel alive?

One grin, a two-toned smile,

This is how I use my feminine wiles.

Blue is vacant,

Blue is alive.

…Blue is everything I can’t surmise.