The Poem…
It’s better from a distance
I have a friend who has it all
An attentive husband
Diamonds on her hands
And pearls around her neck.
I saw them out for dinner one night
He pulled out her chair
And kissed her cheek
And I pretended not to look
Pretended not to care.
I told her the next day
I saw you out with him
You look so happy.
I’d die to be you, lady.
She said
It’s better from a distance
That cheek kissing,
And chair pulling,
There’s a price, dear.
I have to call ahead
And not be out too late.
I can’t have too many friends
Or he’ll feel bad.
But I can’t give it up
She said
What if no one else loves me?
I’d rather be you
She said
Free to roam
Free to be.
I smiled at her and I said
It’s better from a distance.
I have more room in my bed
But I get cold at night.
I don’t have to answer to,
But I don’t have a connection either
To share and swear
And sweat and bleed.
I’d give it up
I said, I guess
If it was right.
One day
On the job
I met a woman
With willowy legs
Pouty lips,
A star-dazzled smile.
She whisks on through with
A body that curves
And shudders.
She walks on glitter
In stilettos
All the pretty boys
And the ugly ones, too
They look at her
And heave a sigh.
Guess I do, too.
In her presence
(When I found my voice)
I said
You’re so lovely
I’d die to be
As lovely as you.
And she curled her glossy lips
And smiled at me.
She said
It’s better from a distance.
I don’t want this wretched body.
I’m losing my soul
But I can’t give it up
She said
Or they won’t love me.
(Even when she cried
She was lovely)
I’d rather be you,
She said
And live free
To be me.
And I almost,
I very nearly replied
It’s better from a distance.
But, instead
I closed my mouth
Put my hand on her back
And I cried too.
Background…
I wish I could tell you I was thinking deep thoughts when I wrote this.
But I wasn’t. I was putting on makeup, and having a hell of a time powdering over the red blotches that persisted across my face. I kept applying, and leaning in closer and closer to my (despairingly) unflattering mirror until my nose struck glass.
Nose sufficiently flattened, I stepped back a step or two and took a birds eye view of the situation.
‘Ah. There we go. It looks better from a distance.’
*KA-POW!
And Carrie Underwood’s voice rang inside my head – with all the fervor of “Blown Away”.
Whoever I was getting ready to go see had to wait another 45 minutes, because I made a bee-line for the computer and plunked out my country song.
I discovered country music during a couple of long road trips I took last summer, and really, I think the country music station is as good as a book on tape. As a poet, I’ve come to love the twangy, down-home lyrics, and totally relatable blue-collar problems. There’s a lot of inspiration in the every day man, and no music genre captures it better than country.
Every time I re-read this poem, I hear Carrie.
Actually, I don’t know the first thing about songwriting. I’m about as musically inclined as a saucer lid.
Do you know how to write a song? Wanna take a stab at re-working this and split the profits three ways: you, me, and Carrie? 😀