I escape often to a place I’ve created;
It’s a small stage in, what is it?
A bar? I think so.
But I’m there singing
Which is funny, really, because I can’t sing.
But there’s a man with a guitar there, who really can play guitar,
and I sing.
And we make a great team, he and I,
With lots of knowing in our voices.
And the whole place feels it, all the people there, drinking whatever is it they’re drinking.

Knowing what?
Whatever I’m learning. Whatever I’m feeling.
Sadness usually, I know a lot of sadness.
And maybe love— lost or found,
timely or not, whatever it may be.
But yes I know some about love also.

What I don’t know is if I want this place to be real;
Do I want to sing of sadness?
I think I’m afraid that maybe I do.
I think maybe I take every opportunity to come to that place and sing.
But I don’t care much for bars and
I can’t sing, really,