You know how certain things stick with you throughout your life - things like names or places or songs? It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing, these things have a way of always presenting themselves. Cloying almost, as if the universe has one of those built-in skunk spray mechanisms and once you've been sprayed, forever you shall smell.

Kansas for me is that certain thing. Why Kansas? I don't know. The only time I've ever been to Kansas was in 2004 to see Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson during their minor league baseball tour.

Sure it was fun. My sister Tori and I had a helluva time. Bob looked as dazzlingly transcendent as ever, what with his snake-glide walk and curly hair. Beautiful. The humidity, the crowd as we arched and pivoted our way to the stage, all that salty skin from strangers pressing up against us. And then Dylan and his band playing music that could cure a dying man. Such memories!

But why Kansas?

I was talking to my husband about this the other night. I said, I think we're going to end up in Kansas.

He scoffed.

I said, no honey seriously, our lives have already been orchestrated. Kansas is in there somewhere.

It's like poetry. What begins in the mind then travels, like a sea of information, fifty some thousand lightyears away to return to the mind.

These are the things I think of when Dylan sings:

Well, I struggled through barbed wire, felt the hail fall from above.
Well, I struggled through barbed wire, felt the hail fall from above
Well, you know I even outran the hound dogs
Honey, you know I've earned your love.

The force of his words engenders my soul.

Sometimes I think, what do I need? What source of life is missing in me that his words, his thoughts can fill?

With him I am lead into a world of promise, where stars glaze and moonlight reflects in every pond of water. Other times I wonder, is it really him or is it some murmur in myself- hope, want, desire, ambition, my life in hiding approaching my life as it's meant to be lived.

An intersection. Dream meets reality.

It's impossible to choose one album, one song, one era. I've followed his work from conception to present day, all along finding lost parts of myself.

And yet there has always been something so rare and different about Blood on the Tracks, something so distressing it's almost difficult to listen to and not become moody.

When Bob Dylan sings, I've seen love go by my door, it's never been this close before, I stagger in my helplessness.

When he says, situations have ended sad, relationships have all been bad. Mine've been like Verlaine's and Rimbaud. But there's no way I can compare all those scenes to this affair, you're gonna make me lonesome when you go.

I want to step in and save him, ease the loneliness a bit.

Each one of us has been given a chance to give something. Most of us have trouble with the concept of giving without asking questions. Without expecting something in return. When nothing is given we refuse to offer, thinking if we do not budge it will prove how strong we are.

People living in a paper universe.

For me there's time and there's opportunity. Who cares if life doesn't glamorize me with material riches, as long as it lends itself a moment, just the tiniest moment of absolute quiet where I can listen and learn from his voice without interruption.

But why Kansas? Throughout my destiny I rarely seek reasons. Some might call it a flaw, this unpredictable nature, the way I will hop on a plane without so much as a moments notice to see a concert several states away. My heart moves in many directions.

I think if it weren't for Dylan, I may never have known Kansas, never been tempted to visit Twelfth street and Vine. I suppose the same could be said for anywhere I've gone to see him perform. Anywhere is here philosophy. Here could be anywhere.

I been meek
And hard like an oak
I seen pretty people disappear like smoke.
Friends will arrive, friends will disappear,
If you want me, honey baby,
I'll be here.

Lisa Zaran was born in Los Angeles, California, yet spent less than one year there. She moved over 40 times before the age of 18. Since then, she has slowed down considerably, moving only 8 times so far in her adult life. Born to Norwegian parents who enjoyed living a nomadic lifestyle, Lisa too, is always on the lookout for the next great adventure. Although, now that she has settled down with a family she finds she can experience as much fulfilment through music and poetry as she used to experience travelling, meeting new people and always being the new kid in town. She is the author of four poetry collections, ‘the sometimes girl’ (InnerCircle Publishing), ‘You Have A Lovely Heart’ (chapbook, Little Poem Press), ‘Clipped From Our Days’ (online collection at Argonauts' Boat) and The ’Blondes Lay Content’ (Lulu Press) She writes and lives in Arizona. Many of her poems, essays, and artwork can be found in literary journals, ezines, and anthologies worldwide. Visit her website here. To read a selection of Lisa’s poetry on the Showcase section of this site, click here.

© 2007 Laura Hird All rights reserved.