The Hidden Face

A Blue Moon, most people  I’ve met are wrong,
It's the third of four and not two in one,
And frankly, it really doesn't matter 
If you do not  know what the hell I mean.

The Blue Moon, that's how often I went there.
The Moon really wasn't my sort of place.
Sometimes when I felt sad and pissed at life
A divorce has a way of doing just that.

It’s a place with a simple raw beauty
It’s honest, in a twisted sort of way.
Dollar bills on the rail, five dollar beers,
Recycled smoke and the noise filled the air. 

It was Thursday, an odd night to go out.
Once in a blue moon opportunity.
My friend, indulged me, we ended up there.
Along the stage, as nameless girls appear.

I was there to be simply entertained,
My eyes slide to each one as they appear
They dance to the music and for the cheers,
For reasons I doubt that anyone cares.

Maybe just because the money is good
Or it’s to hide from the pain in their fears.
Each with a confident beautiful face
We’re all unaware of the hidden face.

I imagined I was like everyone,
We had the fantasy of what could be
If only, if she would only see me.
Would I get burned, if I stared at the fire?

I laid my dollar down, she came my way.
It was into her eyes, through which I fell.
Her motions, her smile, the sway of her hips,
I was trapped and in new territory.

The gilded frame to her beautiful face.
The culmination of strokes from life's brush,
This was one more painting hanging in an, 
Endless museum of lives on the fringe.

It’s Saturday night, not sure if it's right
Alone, not even sure if she’d be there.
She’s beautiful, the thought consumes me.
I decide to go, she was at the bar.

I find a quiet spot against the rail, 
I’m waiting with a pocket full of ones.
The cost of the privilege, as each girl comes.
I watch their eyes and I watch each one dance.

I wait for the DJ to say her name.
Heather: it means fields of wild evergreen.
Her eyes, her smile, they are forever there.
Whether she’s waiting, talking or dancing.

Heather is always wearing  the same face,
Just her presence captures your attention.
She seems to exist in her own spot light.
There is a wild force in her burning bright.

That night, I watched her move across the stage.
I am lost in the rhythm of her dance.
She is totally exposed and naked.
Suddenly  I am broken from my trance.

She asked if I am having a good time?
How do I respond to my fantasy.
It’s me, exposed, just beyond the rail.
My mind is racing and I’m caught off guard. 

I see a diamond just beneath the glass.
I know my touch would be stopped at the pass.
With which face do I answer the question?
Yes, of course, I am having a good time.

You asked, what I've wanted to have all night.
A private dance in the VIP lounge.
Suddenly, I feel completely alone,
The crowd is gone, they have all  disappeared.

When your dance ends, you led me with your hand.
It was very quiet in the back room
I finally saw a different face.
We talked a little, you told your story.

Then my imaginary world crashed down. 
A small glimpse at the pain, it stabbed my heart.
My sleepless nights, as pissed off as I got,
The blows from life, could I have born her pain?

Would I get burned, if I stared at the fire?
I now have the answer to my question.
In that instant, it’s a slap to my face.
My smugness fell away and shame fills me.

I have no right to be in the Blue Moon.
That intimate moment has left a mark.
The face of the blue moon returns,
You tell me to sit back, enjoy, relax.

I am no longer where I thought I was,
So many faces, I’m lost driving home.
Many years have passed, your child has grown up.
Did they allow you to see him again?

Was life ever kind? I don’t  have a clue, 
I have never been back to the Blue Moon.
I do not know if the story was true.
But I am reminded when feeling blue.

David Gray