CHAPTER 14--GRACE
June 1997
To work it out I let them in, all the good guys and the bad guys that I've been. All the devils that deceived me and the angels that defeated them somehow...Come together in me now.
-Paul Williams
| W |
oke the next morning with one of the weirdest haircuts of my life. OK, so it was one of very few haircuts in my life, along with the one I got when I showed up for the first day at boot camp. Uneven as all hell, this cut. Still, she'd done the best job she could under the circumstances. One pair of scissors, one comb. No cosmetology license. What a trooper. Yeah, she could be all right, I guess, when she wasn't acting like a spoiled primadonna, that is. Or the way she was acting that morning, as I found out.
Eyed the cut, along with a fresh shave, in the hand-held mirror that was part of my shaving kit. Hadn't been around a razor in years either. Always kept it with me though, in case of emergencies such as that one. Just like my guitar. Yeah, I still played my guitar now and then, Queen. Still couldn't sing for shit, but what the hell, I could play all right. Knew enough chords to play more than a few campfire favorites. Figured that morning would be a good time to relax and do a little work out on the old six string guitar. Grabbed my guitar case and headed up a hill to an outcropping of rock, sat myself down, and lit a joint. Nothing like waking up in the morning in a beautiful natural spot such as the
Popped open the case, where the Gibson rested peacefully, and then I saw it. A white piece of paper stapled to another white piece of paper. The top piece was a note from Louie:
Amigo, you know how sometimes I like to write poetry and shit, right. Well, I wrote something for Ginny, a poem that I think can be a song, maybe. I don't know. If I wrote music, I'd put it to music. I wrote it when she took off with that asshole Larry. Maybe, you can teach me to play guitar sometime. Anyway, amigo, I think it would be really cool if maybe you could put some music to this poem, and maybe, if I have the guts, I could sing it to Ginny, and you could play behind me. Aw, c'mon, amigo!
Yer pal, Louie
So, I figured Queen, why not? If I had the time to sit there and smoke a joint, I could put some music to the kid's words. Folded the letter over and there on the second page, carefully printed was the poem song Louie had written for his sugar-spun sister. He had titled it, "Grace."
I read it and reread it, and really found it to be quite moving. I was surprised. Conjured up in me all my old feelings for you, Queen. How I'd always felt about you, Queen, how I had never forgotten you.
My eyes have found you,
In my dreams I have unwound you,
In my mind's eye, you were naked,
I reached out and I touched your skin
You were calling, calling for someone
You were falling into a face
The face kept changing, kept rearranging
‘Till we both fell from Grace
My eyes have touched you
In a broken space long ago
I won't forget you, and I won't let you
Fall from Grace.
