Happy Birthday, My Electric Lady

Many years ago, early in my relationship with Nancy, I wrote my first "totem" work. At the time, and for years after, the relationship was strong. But the poem I wrote was written from the standpoint of a man (?) expressing regret over a parting, a parting caused by the dichotomy between who he was and what he wanted to have.

At the time, Nancy had this lovely t-shirt, dark blue, and on it was an illustration of a Japanese woman, holding a parasol, in bright, light blue...electric blue, almost. Nancy called it her "electric lady" shirt.

One evening, while sitting in her study, talking, I went over to her typewriter and wrote a couple of pieces...this was one of them.

My Electric Lady

dance for me, my electric lady.
sing a song that gently soothes my soul.
tomorrow I must leave your world again, my love...
as I strive to reach this endless journey's goal.

I once gave up my poor and mortal birthright,
so that I might touch the sky and see true things.
my love, I'm not so sure I would have started,
if I could have seen the pain this voyage brings.

once again, my electric lady,
touch me and bring forth my too-rare smile.
for the moment I am just another mortal-
and a little love will last me quite a while.

if we had only met before the present,
and what is gone had made me what I am,
a love would be that all who live might envy-
but I cannot come back this way again.

for the final time, my electric lady...
give me all that I may take within my vow.
tomorrow is my child and a gift to the stars-
and the night is just my brother here and now.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
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How little I knew that, when I wrote this, it would become the truth in a few years, when she asked me to consider giving up "this writing thing" because "poetry will never make a comeback as a commercial artform, and you will grow old and bitter, and I can't stand to see the man I love that way".

Nancy, Happy Birthday.

I am older, if not old, and any bitterness I might have in my heart has nothing to do with poetry and audiences and money. Had I remained with you, who knows what would have come into the world? Maybe more for me, maybe less, I am sure your husband is grateful for our parting (your Mother was, she made me swear, on her sickbed, to never seek a reconciliation with you, an oath that screwed me up for years). Be strong, be well, and be the person you were meant to be, as I have had to be the person I was meant to be.

"Tomorrow is my child..."