what were the chances

When I left you alone
To fight your battles of long winters
In hotels, what went through your mind?
How is it that you made it?
How is it that you noticed?

It wasn't me who was
Looking at you through
Foggy glass
Or windows, it was them

I was out in Coolidge with my head on a counter
Drinking down my chances to ever return
(To anyone) To anyone

No I wasn't faking it
The hurt I felt was real and all that was holy
Just slowly disappeared but just appeared
In parking lots
And truck stops

The blinking lights (The blinking lights)
Now I'm sinking you
How the hell did I get here?

Does your husband know
I call you sweetheart?
Does he know that I call you ...?
It's not like you're cheating
We're only meeting in motels and not your home
(It's not like we're cheating
We're only meeting in hotels and not your home)

Would you change your last name to mine?
(Would you change your last name to mine?)

I think my kids would mind
I think my kids would mind

I was in the desert waving planes and burning phonebooks to a tune
That was famous the year I was born
Do not leave me dancing alone
(Do not leave me dancing alone, pick up the phone and call me lover)
Pick up the phone
Call me lover (Say, "Come and get me, I am home")
I am home

Please pick up the phone
Please pick up the phone

Don’t Think I Do Not Grieve

Don’t Think I Do Not Grieve

Don’t think I do not feel;
because you see no tears.
A river rages deep inside
of grief, and loss, and fears.
Just because I do not cry now,
don’t think my heart’s not broken.
I keep inside the misery
of words not to be spoken.
Sometimes I smile, or crack a joke,
so you won’t see the pain;
or notice how my hands will shake,
or how I’ve gone insane.
Each time I chance to think of him,
my heart is ripped asunder.
The loss I feel is mine alone.
you will not see my thunder

in memory of my opa

the 21st of may my grandfather died. i guess nothing will ever be the same for me. he was the solid stone that held my family together. the link between the past, the present and the future. and now there is no one to breathe for our short comings.

my grandfather, Viktor Kohn Bloch was an extraordinary man. with a life filled with things that none of us could ever comprehend. i would of liked to say something infront of all the people that were gathered today at the cemetery.. but it would of been practically impossible do to my state of inconsolable crying. able to survive world war II, but he could not survive how sickness slowly began to invade his body. he believed in being noble, smart, efficient and the value of work. he taught my father everything he knows, and he taught me how to read time, but he forgot to teach me how to let time heal this hole i feel inside me now.

he was always such an observing man, when the family gathered around him, he would look into each of our faces; probably looking for something. i wonder if he ever saw in me what he was looking for, or expected to find. i can't say that we were close, because that would be a lie. a feeling of mystery and admiration always overwhelmed me every time i looked at him, every time i hugged him. i always greeted my grandfather with a hug.. and with a traditional " hola opa."

January 2006 was the last time i saw my grandfather, i hope he knew that i loved him incredibly. i don't know if he knew, i don't remember telling him the last time i saw him. but i do remember the feeling of love beating in my heart the last time we hugged, his weak arms couldn't hold me tight as he used to do. and i guess i really never sat to calculate, how although he lived in Miami, and distance separated us; how his existence gave meaning to my life. how everything i did had the weight of his approval on it.. and how i wished, more than anything, that he would feel proud of me.

i felt so happy when i discovered we had things in common, we both liked to draw; as a symbol of this i have his drawing table in my room. a reminder of him at all times. as are many other things that i will always have with me. what really perturbs me is the fear that the image of red dirt being shoveled over the wooden box where he lays, will consume those nice memories. i took two shovels full of dirt and threw them in the hole, listening to the thump it made against the wood.. really accepting the fact that i would definitely never see him again.

so many people loved him, his grave was surrounded by his children and grandchildren, all staring inside this hole. i couldn't tear myself away from it until it was completely filled. a hole that seemed endlessly deep was now covered, my grandfather below all this red dirt, and down there with him is buried the person i have admired ever since i can remember. a man whom no one can say ever did anything corrupt or questionable. a man that dedicated his life to producing for his family, to work and sacrifice. this was my grandfather. a man who held my hand the first time he took me to Disney, whom would share green seedless grapes and loved to play rummikub, who showed me about classical music, european cars and chocolates. a man to great too bury and too difficult to forget, because he will always live inside me.