84 McEvoy Road.

McEvoy Road
[song for Kate McG]

84 McEvoy Road, two bedroom fibro
we moved in with one double bed
that trebled, for dining, for seating,
centre stage of the living room
with a JVC stereo and a cache of vinyl.

Met you one Saturday in April
you were a lesson, a primer in style
how to splice melody, sing skin-tight harmony
and don’t miss a beat, not moving apart, 
somewhere that room’s still the same,
the bed’s still unmade, you say don’t move a thing
we grew wings, we grew wings

In parallel you ran true
it was anna and you,
whole cities, whole states, a whole
life of love climbed — built on solid
and shifting ground


like indian ink pressed and cut
I was all thumbs and fingers, all think
and I play you again
it’s late but its never too late
for you kate, to sing to me again

You lay your wet bathers, your salt
and your wounds on my floor,
gave me good counsel on southern boys,
shipwrecks and grits, and I speak now direct,
perhaps we’ve never spoken before?

Like good rope, like sweet hope
you sang up whole cities, whole states ,
even then impotent with love and with haste
we grew wings, we grew wings, we grew wings.

 © Carol Jenkins 2010 
I wrote this song last year. It occured to me today, drawing this 4 legged musical pun, just how like life the game of musical chairs really is.

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