Holed up in a cheap hotel
Magdalena looses her contacts.
She kicks out all the windows,
fighting off evil forces -- real and imaginary.
Magdalena rarely knows what time it is
or which way to make a left turn.
She packs any numbers of hats and forgets her pants.
Love walks right up, says hello,
but Magdalena's home watering the plants.
Last night high and drunk, Magdalena
considered how a sane woman might embrace madness:
"If I could stay three feet away from myself, watching all
the time, I could do anything!"
Looking at herself in the mirror,
Magdalena screams, "That eye you use like a camera,
can't see the movie you're in -- so cut it out!"
And she does, and she does
for good this time, for good this time.
On the way to Magdalena's burial after that three day
wake, not once did she stir in that sleep like stone.
We rode in a big car, smooth,
chrome gleaming, shining like a Rolls Royce.
The quiet cemetery drifts with Magdalena’s voice.
The city's lights come on, the stars come out
Magdalena sleeps at last, she dreams
that she’s found her way back to this world.
In the morning, being alive, living, it's easy to see
the red of dawn, a thousand towns waking up.
Look, there in that alley...see that old woman
sleeping in a shopping bag of newspapers?
Is that Magdalena?
I thought I saw Magdalena up against those brick and
poured concrete walls, spraying them with butterflies
and singing "all is lust, kiss, and love"
I thought I heard Magdalena say, "Hey, my friend
let's pack and leave for the South of France,
I thought I heard Magdalena say, “Let's go paint outside
in the gray sunlight.” I thought I heard
Magdalena say “Hey, my friend --
let's not forget how to dance. Let’s not forget
how to dance.”
Page Updated: 6/12/00