I remember exactly what I was doing the first time I heard it.

I was a computer systems consultant for Arthur Andersen, in Dallas, Texas. It was a new project assessing the systems at an eyeglass manufacturing plant way out in Mesquite. Only a (half hour?) drive from downtown, but a world away. Mesquite is the home to the major rodeo in the area, with everything that implies.

The partner on the job was coming from another client, so I was going to drive out separately. He would introduce me to the CEO and CFO I we would tour the plant.

It was a blazing hot Dallas afternoon. I worked on the 52nd floor of a 70-story building on Main St. Had to park three blocks away. When I got to my car, I pulled my jacket off and laid it on the passenger seat. It was my double-breasted olive Hugo Boss knockoff. My favorite. I was drenched in sweat.

I blasted the A/C on max, unbuttoned my sleeves and alternately hands on the wheel, so I could raise each arm in turn and get a long blast of cold air into my shirt to dry down.

Halfway there, not quite dry, this deep, booming, slightly gravely woman's voice came on the radio. Johnette Napolitano. I had heard a couple Concrete Blonde songs by then, but had never been swept away.

The first two lines she laid down in about the calmest, soothingest tones I'd ever experienced. The first word, just the name Joey seemed to stretch out forever.

Then BAM! she leapt up four octaves into this piercing, pleading, gut-wrenching lament:

Joey, baby -- don't get crazy

Detours, fences . . . I get defensive

I know you've heard it all before --

So I don't say it anymore

I just stand by and watch you

Fight your secret war.

Although I used to wonder why --

I used to cry till I was dry.

Still sometimes I get a strange pain inside

Oh, Joey, if you're hurting so am I.

Joey, Honey -- I got some money

All is forgiven. Listen, listen

And if I seem to be confused

I didn't mean to be with you.

And when you said I scared you,

Well I guess you scared me too.

But we got lucky once before

And if you're somewhere out there

Passed out on the floor.

Oh Joey, I'm not angry anymore.

I had to pull over.

Not to listen to it, when it was done. Spent, totally spent. I literally pulled over on the shoulder of the expressway, stopped the car and breathed. Didn't cry, but felt like I was about to. Like I already had, actually. That whole fierce ride of that song was like one intense dry-heaving cry.

Only time a song has ever forced me to pull over.

Hadn't heard it in years. Hadn't thought about it. Was just rifling through a stack of old CDs late last night, and my heart soared. Put it on just now over breakfast. Wow. I've missed her.