Where Are You Going? Where Have You Been?

[oats]

for Bob Dylan

Dear Eric,

you don't know me yet, but I know you very well
in fact, I know you better than I'd ever care to tell
like those vests you'd wear to Sunday School, such an arid smell
or when you cut your head trying to step on a carousel
the way you made your parents swell with anger, oh you were troublesome!
the youngest son, with 3 brothers, it's a wonder their marriage held
your cumbersome careless self, if only I knew what to say to you
but I'm older and I don't know how...it's all over now, Baby Blue

by all accounts known, you were a truly wild tike
but you've made it to a lot of places...for someone who couldn't ride a bike
I know - you weren't taught, plus it wasn't your style
at least that's what you would say with an uncomfortable smile
you always loved your denial, mixed in with some truth
like when your mom had the peach tree that glistened with one fruit?
you took a bite before it ripened - tossed it in the gutter
which clogged, so all your brothers were lined up to see who might snitch
you had to lie quick, even if it was generic
so you pulled a sly trick and blamed your "friend Eric"
not the smoothest maneuver, but it proved you wouldn't cry for help;
when the pressure was on you always knew to look inside yourself
only the sky could shelf your potential, nothing else would be able to
but those rolling clouds can hold it down...it's all over now, Baby Blue

I bet you're recognizing that these moments are slowing
so don't let 'em go, because you know where they're going
hold them as close to you as the Pope holds to his rosary
then maybe you'll avoid the disappointment you'll grow to be
the heartbreaks and mistakes, feeling smothered from the skies
now ashamed of the name that claimed you by the color of your eyes
the scars that you carry, partially buried, the heavy grief you shoulder
whatever keeps your soul on the road that's unpaved for you

With Grateful Inspiration,
the future Baby Blue

PS, it's never really over