Head-On Collision

Recently I’ve developed a little crush on Bruce Springsteen.  I suppose it started with the way he looked at me from his place on the front door of my previous apartment.  That place was so tiny that I was constantly in the living room/kitchen simply because there was nowhere else to go, so we looked at each other a lot.  But he has good music too.  (I have since moved apartments where his picture now hangs in the bedroom, take that as you will.)  We’ll often sit down together in the evenings, Bruce on lead guitar and vocals and me in the rocking chair.  Sometimes I’ll join in with backing vocals, but for the most part we’re content with him taking the lead.

Sensitive, serious, at times unforgiving, but always sincere, Bruce talks from the heart and we understand each other because even though he’s never lived my life, he somehow has the right words for significant moments of my life.  I’ve never met a man who can rock as hard as he does and still bring me to tears.  Like most friends, we hit hard times, but push through them.  Occasionally I get upset with him.  How can you say that? I ask.  How can you know that’s how I feel?   And I’ll silence him or else storm off to my bedroom, which doesn’t help much either since he’s there looking at me.  But he’s patient; he knows I’ll come back.  And I always do.

So we sit together, Bruce taking the lead, me in the rocking chair.  He sings and sometimes I’ll sing with him.  Together we cheer each other on.

Have a listen to Badlands.

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