Another Saturday Night

I want a man who can get loose and dance like we know how- acting out the scenes from each song: Piano Man makes me feel at least three inches taller pre-ballet performance that turns out to have the perfect ending. What’s Going On!!! Belted in exasperation and humor… He’s gotta be right there with me gorging on late night mac-n-cheese and putting cilantro on anything and everything. I’m not ashamed to squirt mustard in my mouth- straight outta the bottle. Will Freddy Mercury’s pain and genius make both of us cry? Or will he snicker and lovingly poke fun at my sensitivity?

Then the ultimate- stuffing my face alone- song comes on… “Forever’s gonna start tonight. Now I’m only falling apart: Total Eclipse of the Heart.” Love of my life, hurry back, hurry back… don’t take it away from me because you don’t know what it means to me.

But as the final crescendos peak, the eclipse that blacked out my heart relents to show the first streaks of new light. I confidently march over to the stove, grab the kettle and fork, and say “I’m going to eat this mac-n-cheese as a strong, intelligent, and beautiful woman!!!” My head held high.

My goddess Crone remembers that I am a Nothingman. Burn. Burn. I took a trip through the concerts of the last half of the 20th century, discovering that music exposes our deepest yearnings, regrets, blessings and hurt. Is the love I gave [him] in the past, gonna be enough love to last, if tomorrow never comes? He who forgets will be destined to remember. [He] was [my] love. [I] was his queen and now a thousand years between. If I’d only known how the king would fall, Hey who’s to say, you know I might have changed it all… I could’ve missed the pain…

But I’d have had to miss the dance. And I want him to rock my gypsy soul.

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