Lucinda

I woke up this morning with a Lucinda Williams song filling my mind. "Something About What Happens When We Talk" It's a sweet song, wistful and bittersweet:


If I had my way I'd be in your town.
I might not stay,
but at least I would've been around.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.

Does this make sense?
It doesn't matter anyway.
Is it coincidence or was it meant to be?
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.

Conversation with you was like a drug.
It wasn't your face so much as it was your words.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.

Well I can't stay round, cause I'm going back south.
But all I regret now is I never kissed your mouth.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.
Cause there's something about what happens when we talk.
Something about what happens when we talk.


Then the alarm went off and 'Heart" came on, screaming 'Magic Man,' piece of mania that it is. It takes me back to summers in high school, waxing the upstairs floors of my grandparents' farmhouse, blasting the radio. 'Barracuda' and 'Magic Man' must have been played hourly, and I liked them, as they fit all of that teen angst I had.

I like Lucinda better.