Lizzy Ross

CROSS THE CUYAHOGA

(c) Lizzy Ross 2010

Well, he’s balancing on one rail, rust against bare toes, / Down by the tracks where the hyacinth grow /Not allowed back there, but mama don’t care,/ mama don’t care cause she don’t know where he goes. / Leaves the backyard baseball till it’s time to eat,/ Crosses the Cuyahoga, cleans those dusty feet,/ Gets them black again all over, running out to meet / The afternoon, the backwoods, and a friend or two. / Years fly by like train cars on old, forgetful tracks / Soon he’s singing Springsteen songs all summer long, and taking whiskey back/ where the wildflowers turn to wildfires burning in the woods,/ and a teenage boy can get his hands on his share of the goods./ Leave the books behind you, go find something sweet,/ cross over the Cuyahoga, clean those dusty feet,/ get them black again all over, running out to meet / the setting sun, the night’s begun./ Now me, I’m from the east coast, and In my town we sail,/ But I met a man who’s made me think I’d rather go by rail /And we’re miles from his old station, but the same tracks run through here / And if we walked them far enough we’d cut right through the years/ to play some backyard baseball in the summer heat, / cross over the Cuyahoga, clean those dusty feet,/ get them black again all over, running out to meet the morning sky, / gonna catch a ride,/  hopping the same line, /  sitting side by  side.

NEEDLE AND THREAD

(c) Lizzy Ross 2010

I got a needle, been sewing all night, / trying to fix what don’t fit right. / You’ve got a heart about halfway torn, / hole in the middle and the edges worn. / When I reach out for your hand, / all I get is a ragged strand, / and if I gave you everything, / you’d leave me hanging by a string. / Some other lover tore you up, / ran you ragged, loved you rough, / trust in tatters, faith all frayed, / sure your love will be betrayed. I got a needle and I got thread, / but I can’t get inside your head, / and if I wanna leave then I got the right, / but I got a needle and I’m sewing all night. / You’ve got a thread that runs through me, / thin enough that I can’t see. / Strong enough I can’t break free, / long enough that I’m lonely. / It takes two to patch things up / make it whole where holes are cut, / stitch together threadbare hearts, / make a new love from old parts. / I got a needle, been sewing all night. / Trying to fix what don’t fit right. / You’ve got a heart about halfway torn, / hole in the middle and the edges worn

NOT YET

(c) Lizzy Ross 2010

I stole a buckeye from your old bedroom./ A baseball cap, a flannel shirt, a photo of you/ scowling in a classroom, trying to hide a grin,/ ten years younger, hair much longer, hand upon your chin,/ and I can see a beard that’s making threats of growing in,/ but not yet./ You took me out to meet your hometown friends/ and every face, it matched a name, and I knew the stories—most of them./ I thought I saw your name etched in the table at that bar./ I pictured you engraving that lovely little scar./ Your mark is near as permanent upon my heart,/ but not yet./ All in good time,/ that’s what they tell me. / You only learn if you keep going. / But the deeper we “go,”/ the deeper I fall,/ even though I’ve got no way of knowing—Not yet./ And as we’re driving down the backroads home/ you pull over, quiet the radio,/ turn to me and look me in the eyes,/ start to speak, but only sigh./ If you can’t say it, maybe I can try – / It’s difficult to tell if love will stay./ In theory it could work out lots of ways./ But I don’t really mean it when I say/ not yet./ All in good time,/ that’s what they tell me. / You only learn if you keep going./ But the deeper we “go,”/ the deeper I fall,/ even though I’ve got no way of knowing—/ no way to know where this is going—/ not yet.

WEDDING CAKE

(c) Lizzy Ross 2009

Last week I sang a song to get me through; / the song I sang was you. / And I declare, I do not care / If that song I sang was true. / Well, I found out it wasn’t, dear, / but it’s a song I love to hear / even so.  Yeah, yes I know. / Don’t worry, she made it clear. / I won’t be at your door tomorrow. / I won’t be at your door to borrow / butter, flour, sugar, eggs, / all the things it takes to make / myself the finest wedding cake. / All those shells that I will break, / I will break for you. / This week I met the woman that you chose / to hang your trousers by her hose, / with those quiet eyes / no one down between her thighs. / And bursting with excitement of the new, / she told me about you. / Well, she declared how much she cared, / just knowing that her love was true. / She will be at my door tomorrow. / She will be at my door to borrow / butter, flour, sugar, eggs, / all the things it takes to make / myself the finest wedding cake. / All those shells that she will break, / she will break for you. / I see the wink of your eye,  / hinting at better times. / Hinting, and you remind me / you never kept promises, anyway. / But quiet dear, the cake will fall, the cake will fall, / It’s gonna fall. / This Tuesday at a café I observed / a young bride having some dessert. / She took it with a man, / wearing no ring on her hand. / And as I looked I saw above her smile / a pair of quiet eyes. / She’d seen the new and gotten crude / she wanted something oversize. / You will be at my door tomorrow. / You will be at my door to borrow / anything you need,  / a candlestick, a tumbleweed,  / a woman with an itch to scratch, / a bed on which to lay your back, and / we will break your vows together. / We will break your vows together.

TRACES

(c) Lizzy Ross 2009

Racing the night to get to you. / I know you thought that we were through, / but I can’t leave behind those nights; / the river in the dying light. / Who knows what one more try will do? / Every time I close my eyes, / like mist across the water, visions rise. / The raindrops sliding off your skin, / holding my breath and jumping in / our bodies finally collide. / All these traces lead me back to you, / and all these places—I’m just passing through. / All these faces, none of them are yours. / I don’t know what I left you for; / I just know I can’t live like this anymore. / I left you dreaming in the sun, / sprawled out on the rocks, your hair undone. / I loved you then, but didn’t know, / I only knew I had to go. / A love like that can make you run. / And when I finally came around, / I went back to that old river town. / I looked for you, but you weren’t there, / the locals said a love affair / had broken up and brought you down. / All these traces lead me back to you, / and all these places—I’m just passing through. / All these faces, none of them are yours. / I don’t know what I left you for; / I just know I can’t live like this anymore. /  I’m on your front porch, got your paper in my hand / I’ve been waiting for you; I got it all planned. / Give me one more chance and I’ll explain, / through every single thing I’ve seen, / I only wished that I could be with you again.

MARIA

(c) Lizzy Ross 2008

Maria, Maria, been so long since I’ve seen you. / Maria, Maria, been so long since you’ve heard my voice. /And I don’t quite know how to / tell you what I must tell you. / Maria, Maria, you haven’t heard from me in so long. / Maria, Maria, tell me, how was Sevilla? / Maria, Maria, tell me, how was Rome? / Were the boys there so pretty? / Did you feel wanted and witty? / Maria, Maria, when are you coming home? / Dancing lights behind your eyes / Blind me; they hypnotize / They remind me that you light up my skies / they remind me, don’t wanna break these ties. / Shining words and astral highs / can’t take you up beyond goodbye, but / why would I want to say good bye? / I don’t know why I want to say goodbye. /Maria, Maria, please explain what I’ve heard. / Maria, Maria, I swear I didn’t swallow a word. / I just kept walking on, past lines of right and wrong. / I thought that I did it for you, but the promise I broke was to me.

EVERYPLACE

(c) Lizzy Ross 2009

Driving home, / Listening to what’s playing on the radio. / Don’t you know I feel so much better/ knowing that you’re sleeping in my bed tonight. / Rest your head, you know you’re always welcome in my bed, / you know you’re always welcome in my arms, / you know you’re always welcome in my heart. / Grab a coffee and a magazine, / stay up late, baby, wait for me. / In the morning you will see my face, and until then / I’ll see you everyplace. / Sneaking in, / listening to the handle on the door creaking, / listening to the beating of my heart speaking for me, so loud! / It goes BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, / I know you’re waiting for me in my room, / or you were waiting ‘til you closed your eyes, / and now I’m waiting for you by your side, by your side. / It’s the end of a long, long, week, and / you tried to make it, but you fell asleep, and / in the morning you will see my face, and until then / I’m happy in this place.

SLAVE TO THE MUSE

(c) Lizzy Ross 2009

You know John, he really broke me up. / He said, “Come on, girl, fill my cup,”  / and I did, with heady wine and gin.  / We drank so deeply of that beverage of sin. / Later on, walking home in the rain, / we sang and sang that same sweet refrain, but you know— / you can’t sing (sing, sing sing) / that song too long / with a man who’s got wings. /  I don’t know why / I love them like I do. /  I don’t know why / I’m a slave to the muse. / Quiet James, he stuck around. / You know that boy had his feet on the ground, well / he said for me he would fly— / he’s just another one of those jealous guys. / And I told Drew, when he left / that boy, he was committing a first-rate theft. / Taking my time, leaving me crying, / and moving on down, moving down that line. / I don’t know why / I love them like I do. / I don’t know why / I’m a slave to the muse. / You’ve got me writing, /  every little thing that you do is exciting. / You’ve got me singing, / drowning in the sound that your love has been bringing.  / I don’t know why / I love them like I do.  / I don’t know why / I’m a slave to the muse

TAUTLINE

(c) Lizzy Ross 2009

I like doors open, windows open, / in the night with the blankets tight. / Downstream, that water’s running. / Waterfall, I hear you coming. / You’re gonna wash all over me, / take me out into the sea. / This bed’s no boat, / we can’t float, / but you come drifting in my dreams. / I tried, but I find… / I come home hungry late at night, / but nothing whets my appetite. /that that would is not good for me; / I go to bed just aching. / Tautline holds a heavy weight. / Big fish don’t take much more bait. / And what I got, I know you’ll take, / I feel this line is gonna break. / All last night I dreamt I slept with you, / your shadow creeping soft into my room. / But morning brings you at my door / for toast and tea / and nothing more. / I tried, but I find… / I watch what you never did, / seeing it through half-closed lids. / Lord I hope you’ll never do / what I think I want you to. / Tautline holds a heavy weight. / Big fish don’t take much more bait. / And what I got, I know you’ll take, / I feel this line is gonna break. / All last night I dreamt I slept with you, / your shadow creeping soft into my room. / But morning brings you at my door / for toast and tea / and nothing more.

VOICES OF WOMEN

(c) Lizzy Ross 2009

Rainy night, open sky, / I’ve got the gleam of the moon in my eye. / Overalls on, a bottle of wine, / a curb, a banjo, a few friends of mine—oh,  / there’s nothing here that there wasn’t before. / We buy our beer from the very same store, / sing the same songs on the front porch, / dinner, a two-step, and I’m back on that floor. / But I go home to the voices of women who dance in the afternoon light; / I dream dreams of angels and swimming through lightning that burns in the night. / What could improve such a peaceful existence? / I just don’t know. / I think of you more now that things have slowed down; / I barely noticed that you weren’t around / Cause you never were anyway. / I couldn’t get you to stay, / Just lots of love from far away, and what good is that? / But I go home to the voices of women who dance in the afternoon light; / I dream dreams of angels and swimming through lightning that burns in the night. / And I just don’t know bout this peaceful existence; /something doesn’t feel right… / I just let it all go like the smoke on the wind. / I never did try to get too tight a grip, and / I don’t worry much, but sometimes I touch / on the question of just where it is that I’m slipping.