December's not someone you'd want to meet at this stage of your life. You're not ready, you know? You got all this baggage, all this "stuff" weighing you down and you're not gonna be able to handle that kinda girl.
What do you mean, why? Because, man, she's got all these PROMises. You see stars in her eyes, you know? And gifts. She'll shower you with gifts, sometimes from other people. Like, you'll start to fall in love, start to REALLY fall for this girl, and all of a sudden, poof! You've got Aunt Mavis who you haven't talked to since your birthday sending you a card fulla money. And then your parents, who you love but could care less about the daily hum-drum crap of their lives, they get you that flat-screen TV you been wishin' for since last Thanksgiving when we were at Jim's - you remember that? - and you couldn't stop touchin' the damned thing, you fucking freak. Anyways, that's how it always happens.
So you start to acquire all these Things. And she's still smiling at you, and you swear you can see the universe through her teeth, you know? And she'll hold your hand through the darkest day of the year. She'll comfort you. She'll make love to you. That's right, MAKE LOVE. It's not sex, it's not a quick fuck, it's real actual soul-tearin' love-makin', the kind you think only exists in those romance novels Iris used to read ... prolly still does, but it's been what, six months since the divorce?
Anyways, man, this is the worst part right here: After all those things she does just for you, expecting nothing in return, she throws a party - the biggest party anyone's had all year. Everyone's happy, laughing, getting shitty, sometimes someone brings a little somethin' to smoke, you know. It's just a good time all around. And she's with you the whole time - you're attached at the hip, but you love it. You wouldn't want it any other way.
So then, at the happiest moment of your life, when everyone else is watching a big glittery ball fall into a building or something, she tells you that she has to go. As soon as that ball hits, as soon as that countdown is over, she's gonna disappear. But she'll be back next year, she promises. She looks at you so earnestly, her eyes are like gigantic pools so deep you could dive into them. And you truly believe that she means it, but at the same time, you want to tear out your hair and start bawling like you did when the Red Sox lost in '86, except a hundred times worse. And you can feel your heart start to drop just like that ball into the pit of your stomach.
She pulls you as close as she can without actually becoming part of you, even though you know she already has, and she kisses you so soft. Just real gentle, but it makes you melt into her, or her melt into you, you're really not sure because every ounce of your body aches for her to stay just one more minute. One more hour. One more day.
Suddenly, everyone is cheering, holding up their glasses of champagne and hugging eachother, and you're just standing there. Just standing there, your arms encircled around nothing, your eyes closed, and you wake up. You watch everyone smiling and laughing and full of eachother's presence, and you - well, you're left with nothing. OK, not nothing - you have memories. The greatest, brightest memories of your life.
You'll slip quietly out the door and never return.
Some of us are so devastated that December never comes for us again. We make sure it doesn't, because we don't want to feel that kind of pain ever again for as long as we live.
You don't wanna be that man, you hear me? Come on, let's go. It's getting near sunrise, and you need to see some light.
By tuesdaypillow used with the permission of the poet.
All rights reserved
John Lee Hooker - Hobo Blues
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