I hear a train whistle blow
cold and lonely ,
Freight moving late in the night.
I snuggle under the wam blankets
And think of you on the road,
Headed to the next place where fame awaits.
Following your dream down the road,
Never quite catching up to it.
You call me and tell me,
I miss you, and I love you, and…
It’s all about the next gig,
The next rodeo, the next honky tonk,
That’ll be the one where you’re discovered.
You left me behind,
to listen for the echo of your dreams,
Sounding like the lonely whistle
Of the train.
It’s been so long since you were here
I stopped waiting.
I’ll be the one they ask
When they ask what ever happened to you.
And if you do make it big someday?
Write a song for me,
So I can say I was the one he left behind.
I’ll always hear your voice
In the lonely whistle of the train,
moving away from me.
It didn’t start out that way. I was part of a small group, maybe a dozen people, touring a ship docked in a tropical harbor. The crew were on shore leave so it was the captain showing us around. She was an old sailing ship, dating from the 1800’s, that had been turned into a research ship. She was very elegant, still having the Victorian-era furnishings.
There was a tsunami and everybody grabbed the nearest railing, mast, rigging and held on for dear life but the captain was swept off the ship and drowned and the ship was swept out to sea.
The captain’s girlfriend had managed to stay with the ship but she was so distraught at his loss, two or three days out, she slipped off the ship during the night to join him in the deeps.
The ship (and I don’t remember her name) had just received provisions so we didn’t have to worry about food or water for a while and we learned how to sail her. George Clooney was on board and got voted Captain, probably because everybody already knew who he was and if he could direct a movie, he could probably direct a ship. I ended up First Mate.
Things settled into a routine, everybody had their duties, and they rotated, and when they were done, you could do whatever you wanted whether it was to read, work on the research being done on the ship, or just sit and watch the water go by. A couple of days out, I ran across the communication room. We had satellite phone and with it, internet feed and once I turned on the router, we all had wifi. Life was beautiful.
We sailed the world over, visited ports of all kinds. In one port, huge crabs were everywhere so we had a crab boil, I think that was Dungeness, Washington, it was cool and green there, and I had a pair of quilted neon orange pants that I wore. There was another place we were that had been raining tremendously and we saw a landslide happening but got the ship turned in time to ride out the wave.
Then there was a cat scratching at the door wanting to come curl up with me and woke me up. Darn cat.
When the alarm clock went off this morning, I wanted to shoot it….
I went to a famous place to get my hair cut, when they finished, it was rocking awesome. They wanted to take some photos in a studio setup. I wanted them to do my makeup too, but they weren’t concerned. They took pictures and wanted to do another shoot. It was a nice place, outdoors, and they picked out a fancy dress for me to wear, red carpet ready. And I wore the average size, so any dress fit me. (:-D) Hair still fabulous. I was concerned about having no makeup but they reassured me that wasn’t a problem, hair was what it was all about. The dress was great, high heels to match, I was all that.
They took a few pictures, then brought in a male model to pose with me. He was an acrobat or dancer, that wiry, perfect body of an athlete that comes with movement and control. Six pack and everything. I was reclining and he did a flip and came to rest just brushing my chest. I moved my hands to touch his chest, with the perfect amount of chest hair. (It’s my dream, and I dream perfection) black hair, light skin, perfect teeth, vivid blue eyes. Your basic gorgeous male model, late 20’s, young, but old enough to be a man, not just a pretty boy toy. His name was never said.
He moved and I lightly placed my hands on his back. He was shirtless but wearing loose pants of some kind. As he bent (yes, bent down to me, me wearing high heels, lol) and brushed my lips with his, he asked me did I tweet. He wanted to keep touch with me. I told him, sadly, I was old school, I only did Facebook. And once had a Myspace account that I wasn’t sure had been properly cancelled. He sighed.
I knew that it was all pretend and anything between us was just posed for the cameras so I could enjoy his feathery touch without guilt.
I told him how to find me on Facebook anyway.
I need a haircut.