glen hansard

i fantasize
about that night
when you didn't let me come to Marie's show.
i was on my skateboard and you didn't tell me where.
and you had lied to me about who picked you up and everything.
even though we had had such a nice evening just prior.
i fantasize.
because i remember.
i remember how her car drew up and i watched you through the blinds.
blinded in my heart
so heavy
and i heard you guys talk
for ever
i didn't know if i should go outside to meet you.
when she left i did
i found you next to the hotel, throwing up in the bushes
you whined and how you didn't want me to see you that way
and how ... all these things.
sometimes i wonder if it was just to divert my attention from the fact
that you had totally failed me.

i fantasize, rewind.
i fantasize about packing your suitcase while you were talking in the car
how i would walk up casually and give the suitcase to her,
asking her to give you shelter
since she already got the best of you.

I remember all this when I listen to Glen Hansard.
I almost enjoy.
the heaviness and bitter blue clutch around my soul
in this situation
seems almost preferrable
to the total lack of presence
thereof.