I’ll wear my mask and you wear yours.
That way we won’t know each other.
You sing your songs and I’ll listen.
Ah, but I have a secret.
I’d know by the first word.
That voice could never fool me,
it’s embedded in my mind,
and surrounded by a million pictures;
therefore your mask would do no good.
I’d know you in a heartbeat,
because I’ve memorized each part that I can see.
I know your piano fingers and the way you hold your pinky.
I know your brows and those eyes…
even behind that mask, they’d give themselves away.
If only I could listen, I’d never say a word.
I’d sit quietly, not even moving to the beat.
I’d be afraid to anyway,
because I know my hands would move toward you,
to touch a smile that I‘ve seen a thousand times before.
What’s really funny is this voice inside me screaming,
“Lady! Get a grip. Find a hobby,
pet the cat, or cook a meal.”
And I always answer back,
“Go to hell. I don‘t want to!”
The next time that I hear it,
I think I’ll lock that voice behind a door
and then throw away the key.
I can be as quirky as I want to.
After all, who’s it hurt?
Except perhaps the unwashed dishes,
and the piles of laundry …
the dusty floor…
Oh well, perhaps tomorrow I can shoo him from my head.
I doubt it. It all has to do with priorities, after all.
What’s more important…cleaning house or him?
I laugh out loud and then I sigh…
because of course it’s him!!