This was my first U2 post ever, when my love was new and raw, when their music spoke to me as I was walking through the streets of my hometown and the images and words came, fragmented, unbidden, furiously limping:
August 22, 2005 7:30 pm
Tell me why the floorboards shook in the afternoon thunder, why the sun scorched, then hid behind electric clouds, then glowed pink and sweet in the dusk. Why my sister's voice was no longer young and high when we met and spoke of nothing and everything. Why the cold after-storm air smelled like summer for an instant there, as I crossed streets slick with black mud. Why people strut around in fake white Nikes. Why kids from the street across play hopscotch with calloused bare feet and smiles as tattered as their clothes. Why I winced watching the toothless smile of the lady who passed my fare to the bus driver. Tell me why I dream about Bono lying on his back on a heart-shaped stage with a girl in his arms singing, "my hands are tied, my body bruised..." Tell me why I wish someone – fairy godmother? rock star? Messiah? – would whisk me away, far away from these, these faults. They assault my senses; they pinch, wail, stink, glare.
Tell me why I dare not leave. Tell me why I revel in these things, in flimsy houses and growing old, in filth and dreams and unasked-for smiles.
[x-posted in my blog but slightly edited]