April 23, 2005

Closing Time

She was cruising down the Big Sur coast,
Looking for a little romance.
I was walking the edge of Highway One,
Hoping for a second chance.

She pulled that Ford to the side of the road.
I opened the door, got in.
Said, "My name's Adam, baby. What's yours?"
She said, "They call me Original Sin."

She didn't look like your high-school sweetheart.
She was no obvious beauty queen.
But she had something every man knows,
That fire that's felt not seen.

We coasted down that seaside highway
Until the evening fog rolled in,
Then checked ourselves into the Pines Motel,
Where I first knew Original Sin.

When I awoke the next morning
The room held nothing but me and a note.
"Nice knowing you, Adam, but I gotta roll.
See you around sometime," she wrote.

I wandered on down the side of the road,
Feeling just strange and tired.
Stuck out a thumb and a rig pulled over,
Said, "You want a job moving, you're hired."

We drifted along the curves below Sur
For most of that foggy morning,
Crawled over a hill and into a bunch
Of cops and cars with no warning.

Below the cliffs, out on the rocks
Was the smoldering wreck of a Ford.
Gulls swarmed over it, calling and calling,
Looking for a little reward.

"Another damn fool," said the trucker.
"Took the curve just a little too quick.
I seen it before and I'll see it again.
It's a killer of a road when its slick."

He edged round the cops and the gawkers,
Hit the gas, downshifted the gears.
"Pull over," I said, " and let me get out.
Far as I go is right here."

I walked back to Big Sur and got me a job.
Worked hard, got some money laid in,
And opened this bar by the side of the road,
And I named it Original Sin.

And sometimes halfway to morning,
When the last of the drunks have rolled home,
I find myself down by the Pines Motel,
And know that I'm never alone,
Know now that I'm never alone.

And that's my sad old story, pal.
Just one of a million I hear.
But this one's mine to know and to tell.
Tell me yours and I'll buy you a beer.
Tell me yours and its worth
One cold beer.

       -- on the Coast, April 2005

Posted by Vanderleun at April 23, 2005 8:33 AM
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"It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood." -- Karl Popper N.B.: Comments are moderated and may not appear immediately. Comments that exceed the obscenity or stupidity limits will be either edited or expunged.

welcome back

Posted by: hanan at April 24, 2005 12:58 PM

Halfway thru a mind-numbing year of study of the vagaries of spoken and written Korean, I was a short-hair crashing the party of very long-haired folk, and I admired the two lanky girls who mirror-danced for our gawking curious delight, both of them too tall for the men there, but one of them just that tad shorter than me, and happy to have one slow dance with a tall boy, on his way to manhood in Korea-better-than-Vietnam, and when I left, I was careful to say thank you, Joan Baez...

Posted by: Carridine at April 25, 2005 7:09 AM

Yeah, welcome back, ya big galoot!

Posted by: Carridine at April 25, 2005 7:10 AM