she looked wild standing on the stage among her three sweet boys and holding her guitar. her platinum blonde hair was dry, teased, large, and amazing and her jeans faded around each curve of her lower body. lucinda williams is the passionate raspy voice of unrequited love and we went to her concert prepared with kleenex and not so comfortable shoes.
"shit," elizabeth repeated over and over as we watched lucinda rock back and forth like a cradle until she was ready to grab the microphone with two fists and tell us she was waiting in the car. in my mind i was suddenly rounding the corner and facing the bahai- ready to jump out of the car and onto the steel bridge. i wanted to jump and run. to get all the negative energy out that pent up my wintered mind. i grabbed elizabeth's shoulder. i was back in the present.
"i think we could get your hair to look like hers," i said.
"without a doubt," elizabeth agreed.
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