The Realm of Possibility (3 page)

the last time I kissed someone
my heart felt this loneliness
I didn't know if I'd ever recover
if it was already too late.
I just lay in my room
and wrestled with the emptiness
an emotion so big
it had the full force of fate.

you are not the first girl
that I have fallen for
and I know I'm not the first girl
that you'd ever choose.
you are not the first girl
to have led me to longing
but you could be the first girl
I don't manage to lose.

I'm telling you this
because you've made it different now.

I'm telling you this
because you caused something to live.
back came
the feelings I would not allow.
back came
my chances to give.

I'm not good at relationships
I always manage to find the flaws
sometimes in others
but mostly my own.
I foretell the endign
then go and create the cause
save myself
and end up alone.

you are not the first girl
that I have fallen for
and I know I'm not the first girl
that you'd ever choose.
you are not the first girl
to have led me to longing
but you could be the last girl
I don't manage to lose.
track four: open heart night

It's open heart night at the Claire d'Lune
and I'm hoping real bad just to see you soon
To see your face as you walk in the room
so I can wrestle you down with an open heart tune

If the spotlight's on me, will you look to the dark?
If I sing my arrow, will it hit its mark?

We all wait our turn to get up to the stage
Guitars at the ready for minimum wage
Just the chance to sing it like it never will be
Looking to unlock you with a major key

If I shout it, will you hear?
Can my chords bring you near?

Hear me, please hear me
Calling to you from open heart night
Come in, sit down
And be my audience tonight

I plug in my amp and scan the crowd
The din of the talking is growing so loud
Familiar faces are plain to see
But not the one that means it all to me

So is it that you've got other plans
Leaving me here with all the other also-rans?

It's open heart night at the Claire d'Lune
and I'm hoping real bad just to see you soon
You won't come when I call, but I'll call 'til you do
This open heart night won't ever be through
No, this open heart night won't ever be through

track five: the ride home
just when I think I'll never reach you
you see me and offer a ride
it's well past midnight, we're at the same party
I wasn't planning on leaving
but I do

as we're walking outside
I hear my friends fade behind me
megan saying be careful
alice saying just go
you unlock my door first
and ask how I'm doing
then say that you're sorry
you missed my show

the engine is revving
the headlights are beaming
and I find that I'm losing
my hold on the thread
that binds us together
that ties me so tightly
that keeps me attached to
the things left unsaid

we drive for miles
and I get nowhere

we drive for miles
in the dark we drive for miles
you're taking me home we drive for miles
in the dark

lit by the streetlamps
your face is a moonstone
the glow of the dashboard
seeps through my hand
you ask me some questions
and I give you some answers
but nothing that would make you
understand

the speedometer's counting
all of my chances
the radio is playing
songs I cannot sing
I am moving my hand
I'm crossing the distance
but leave it halfway
inexplicable thing

we drive for miles
and I get nowhere
we drive for miles
in the dark

we drive for miles
you're taking me home
we drive for miles
in the dark

your eyes on the road
you move your palm onto mine
you press down like salvation
then lighten your grip
a glimmer of smile
as we drive on together
I measure the moment
in the heartbeats I skip

it doesn't last long
the steering wheel turning
I see my house
as your hand retreats
you don't seem to realize
what it is that has happened
as you drop me off
on the side of the street

track six: thirty questions

what do I mean to you?
why are you mean to me?
is this a fantasy?
is anything real?
why can't I be with you?
what will you say to me?
why can't I walk away?
will you please stay?

why can't I fall for
someone who'll love me?
why isn't anything
I do good enough?
why does the sight of you
make me start trembling?
will you please be the one
to save me from you?

why did you hold my hand?
why won't I let you go?
who do you think you are,
to do this to me?
is it all over?
is it only beginning?
why do I miss you
when I see you each day?
how can I reach you
if you won't even notice?
how can you say that
he's even your type?
why do I long for you
when you are so wrong for me?
what is the purpose
of this kind of love?

does it ever get easier?
is there an end to these questions?
do you have any answers?
will you say them to me?
can you stop this unraveling?
will you bring me your closure?
or am I the only one
who sees anymore?
who sees …
who sees …
who sees?

track seven: it's all wrong

he brings you flowers on an orange tray
you pass him notes when he's not looking
he fills your bag with candy hearts
you feel him watching as you walk away

you are asking me if I'm okay
then go on before I answer
you're telling me there will be someone
then tell me how he's brightened your day

SEE
THIS
SCREAM
-
IT
S
FOR
YOU
SEE
THIS
HURT
-
IT
'
S
BY
YOU
SEE
THIS
MARK
-
IT
'
S
FROM
YOU
but you don't see, no you don't see

I search out silent corners
stare at the blank pages
drink messages in bottles
make vows I always break
pretending to be happy
so hard it starts to hurt me
so loud no room is quiet
so silly because I know, of course I know

I see the hurt
I see the mark
I see the signs
there's nothing I can do

track eight: finale

All alone now.
Try to know how.
Reach for stars and touch the air.

I was made for this.
Nothing else but this.

Find the beauty.
Shirk the duty.
Trace the footsteps in the rain.

I have gone through this.
Nothing else but this.

Won't recover.
Lost a lover.
Saw the angel lose her wings.

I will hope for this.
Nothing else but this.

Open doorway.
Looking your way.
The breath before the plunge.

I have come to this.
Nothing else but this.
Drawn to what I miss.
Nothing else but this.

that night I told you to be careful
in the way I could not be careful myself.
you left the party and I walked from drink to drink
wishing the best for you, knowing it was the worst for me.

it is a horrible wonderful thing to be in love with you.
to get to hear you sing for hour after hour
but never be the subject of the song.
to listen and listen and listen.

I carry your equipment to gigs.
I am your ride home, your calendar.
I let you choose the radio station, the time.
and in return, yours is the only goodnight I ever need.

I've lost track of where friendship ends and falling begins.
(this is the foolish refrain of the hopelessly devoted.)
there are times I want to kiss you midsentence.
undo the not-doing with one gesture.

but I hesitate in the wondering.
she's taken the place that was never mine.
you and i have our sad misdirected love in common.
only yours sings out, while mine is a voice left on the inside.

I bide my time, pick at the petals, play the good best friend.
you ask me what I'm looking for, and I outline you.
you don't recognize the shape, offer other names.
you say my time will come, and I hope.

I know this is how the world works.
it would be funny, if it wasn't my heart.
she is the weakness you think of as strength.
while I am the strength you have no idea is there.

I am the one who knows who you are.
I want you to be happy.
and you could be
with me.

My girfriend is in love with Holden Caulfield and it is driving me CRAZY. She has read that book thirteen times, which is about eleven more times than she's bothered to read me. Everything she sees now is PHONY. Starbucks is PHONY. Our teachers are PHONY. Society is PHONY. And love-well, love is the phoniest of all. At first I tried real hard to argue, but that made me one of THEM and not HIM. She tells me he is sweet because he wants to stop all of the little children from running off a cliff. And I say can you possibly think of a situation where a group of children would be running towards a cliff? And she says I just DON'T GET IT. Which is her way of saying she just doesn't get me, and how I can get everything so wrong. Not like Holden, who would be like seventy years old right now, but is frozen at this age that I can't wait to leave. She says she misses being a kid, just like Holden misses riding the carousel. But what's going to stop us from getting on the carousel, from sledding at midnight, from candy and crushes? Just because we're having sex doesn't mean we can't kiss. Holden is a failure with girls, and my girlfriend says that's because he hasn't met the right girl, one who'd UNDERSTAND him. She says this the same night we
argue for an hour about the fact that I always say “I love you” before she does. I leave the room to sneak us some drinks and when I get back she has THE BOOK out, read so often that it's spineless. Whoever made the cover blank knew what he was doing, because what image of Holden could be stronger than the picture in my girlfriend's head? We've been going out for five months now, sleeping together for two, fighting over who loves who for one. I used to love that she could love a book so much. It was her first present to me. I told her I loved it, when what I really meant was I loved that it was from her. Then I made the mistake of CRITICIZING. I said that Holden seemed pretty sad and she said, yeah, that's because his brother died, and I said it wasn't just that kind of sad. She said maybe it took a certain kind of person to see the truth in it, and because I loved her even then, I said she was right. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought less of it, and the more I thought less of it, the more she thought less of me. And I began to think less of her for thinking less of me. If I took up with hookers, if I drank my daddy's money away, if I ridiculed everyone, it wouldn't be charming. She wouldn't love that in me. And, yes, Holden would keep those kids from falling off the cliff, but WHO WOULDN'T? Does she think I would just fold my arms or give them a pat on the back before they sailed headfirst to the ground? We are all catchers, and it's sad that she doesn't see it. Instead she sees the PHONINESS, she deplores the world even after I point out that

I am in it. If she were running through the rye, if she were headed toward that abyss, I would grab hold with every ounce of my strength, with every scared beat of my heart, with every thought that could only be for her. And if I were to be running the same way, I'd like to think she'd do the same. But maybe her hands would be busy holding the book. Maybe she wouldn't see me, too intent on looking for Phoebe from the carousel. Or waiting for Holden to hold her, to wrap her in the pages of his arms, to say she was the only one who truly knew him, as I plunged past her, sad to be leaving, and a little happy to be away.

there are alligators in the sewers of Bloomfield Hills, and if you're coming home late from a party-at, say, two in the morning- you have to be careful because that's when they lift the manhole covers and go to Blockbuster to get videos to watch while they're underground the next day. there was once a Blockbuster cashier who tried to charge an alligator late fees and they found his body the next morning bitten in twenty-three different places. his blood came out the faucets

teenagers are never joking. when seeking to prove a point, principals and teachers should remember that teenagers are never, ever sarcastic or ironic. if they say, “I wish someone would drop a bomb on this school right now,” that means they have arranged for a nuclear arsenal to be emptied onto the school and should be immediately suspended and ridiculed. if they say they were merely coming up with a joking excuse to postpone a bio test,
reply that all jokes are funny, and that since dropping a bomb on a school is not funny, it is therefore

there was this woman in Urbana who loved to eat so much that it became her life. the neighbors stopped seeing her. all they would see was a never-ending parade of takeout deliverymen-pizza boys and Chinese box holders and the girls from El Taco Grande who swore the woman left more money for tips than anyone else. they never saw her, though. this went on for years. she left twenties under the front mat and bribed boys from McDonald's to take their breaks delivering her cartons of supersize fries, supersize sodas, supersize burgers. eventually, this one kid John and his friends decided to break in and scare her. but she got them instead, because they found her dead in the kitchen, weighing nearly as much as the bed she'd moved in there just so she could be close to all the things