The world is grey and chill.
The coffee pot sits silent and still.
I stand, at my window on the world dreaming of yesterday and the times I could not help but fall into you.
Yeah, you sweet room of musical glory.
You my lovely Utah, abundant with laughter and sighs, hopeful waiting and nervous second tries.
I'd give the world for my memories of times spent, belly up to the bar, laughing with Laura as I ate a fabulous humus plate. Damn I hope they still make those. My mouth waters just thinking of it bursting across my palate, garlic and lemony brightness wrapped in chickpea and pita bread.
The warp and weft of time in that room never felt the same as anywhere else in the world. I'm not sure what made it that way. Perhaps the intimacy of the space? The little alcove just down the stairs, balcony above, cavern of creativity below and sound board to one side certainly felt like home.
Hell, who am I kidding?
All the way across the country, or even half a world away when I was in Germany, The Utah still feels like home.
Rock on babies, and kiss someone for me, especially Donna Jean and Hal Marcus, cause those two? Are beyond delicious.
Use your hips to move across the room tonight, in honor of my love of movement.
Dance on up to the bar for a cosmo or perfectly poured draft,
and for the love of music, and whatever else you hold holy, tip your bartender.
Don't miss me, lovely ones...life is too short for regret, and I am as Laura so aptly put it, busy writing salacious stories.
They truly are often hot enough to singe my laptop.
Know that I'm there tonight, cause really?
I'm at the Utah every night in my heart.