Andy Livingston
Andy Livingston


There is a section on Craig’s List called “Missed Connections” where people go to write about people they have seen about town, certain that these strangers are destined to be their lovers. One day while perusing these ads (I sometimes go there to see if anyone has written about me and wants to be my lover), I found one that spoke to me. Someone, while visiting Chicago, was boarding a bus as another passenger was getting off the bus. The writer described this moment when the two of them looked at each other, and in that brief instant he knew that the other was meant for him. In that moment he lived a lifetime with this stranger, who, by that time, had surely forgotten ever having been on that bus. Of course they weren’t meant for each other. That’s not the point. The point is the connection that we as humans share, and the power that we have to positively influence one another through that connection, if only for a moment. I am often amazed at the people who have found their way into my life, and the complex network of pathways and decisions and moments that bring us together in often serendipitous ways. The stranger who gives you a smile; a stolen glance from across the room at someone you love, but you know you’ll never hold; finding a friend in the most unexpected places; in these moments we create lifetimes, worlds, and galaxies. I am often struck, when staring through a crowded room, at how beautiful we all are. How similar we all are, in spite of our differences. To be human is to love. These are the moments that make us human. The most tragic line to me is the first: “I’ve already forgotten what color your hair was.” Even sadder than these moments passing is losing them to the distance created by time and a faulty memory. To all of you who have ever shared a moment with me, I miss you. And in my memory, you are not that far away from me.


I’ve already forgotten
what color your hair was
was it brown or blonde
and every time I see it
I see something used
I’m not that far away from you now
I hope that you remember
that day in Chicago
I do
and every time I see it
I hope you see it too
I’m not that far away from you now
I know that I’ve been here before
it’s nothing like what I remember
someone’s at my kitchen door
selling me on now or never
he was one for looking on the bright side
beneath the black light
the bright side is fading fast
I’m afraid but I’m still standing here
I’m not that far away
I want to say I’m sorry
but I don’t know how
I can’t say I miss you
sometimes I’m a liar

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