running away with the circus

 

I've been trying to write a song about a woman that runs away to the circus for a few months now. It seemed like such a straight shot. Lean into that romantic notion, find the details and let it tumble out. Every new chord progression said no, not yet. No melody arrived on its own. I admitted defeat each time, but did not surrender. 

Last week I tried again and something began to work, but barely. I edited things down, and down and down. The chorus was ok, it could stay. But three verses? Really? The callouses began to come back to my fingertips, painted grey from sliding around the strings, searching for the right combination of plunk and thrum, of suspension and relief. Every time I tried to sing the chorus, I started on the wrong note - an obvious one, a sweet one but not the right one. I am trying to run alongside the train on this one, not jump on the first car with an open door.

I strum and sing into the afternoons with the windows wide open, as garbage trucks rumble along the street, as children shriek on playgrounds. Things get recorded on my phone and when I play them back, they sound crazy, lost, broken. The song in my head, and at my lips but has nothing to do with what I hear back from the tiny speaker. The guitar rests. I start dinner. I have to let it go for another day or two. Let it breathe. 

Then I think it is getting closer, but there is too much going on so I cut down on so much that it is barely a song half of the time. I just can't win. But there she is, that mystery on the flying trapeze. No one knows her real name. No one knows that today is her birthday. The man of steel and the clowns, they carry her things. There are no scraps in her scrapbook. 

As she smiles and spins and twirls

In fishnets and sequins 

Upside down

downside up