This is one nostalgic jaunt
I can no longer
make connection to–
the roads have changed
and there are
more pressing matters
upon which to attend.
THEN
At four and three, respectively,
keeping our eyes peeled
the Tipton/Grazierville exit
Bland’s Park (how much fun could it be?)
the amusement park rides by
now given in to
corporate branding,
much like my past.
Stories related in circles
as if on an endless track
gander past geese,
biting the hand that feeds them.
Cafeteria and library
are side hustles of your grandmama,
as is getting your peeper caught
in the zipper of your footie pajamas
and the Incredible Hulk
standing in for Jesus on the cross.
Heroic, indeed.
LATER
Following these low roads
keeping tabs running, open
to the nagging voices:
past the TYRONE of a booming black man,
the Armaghhhh…of Joseph’s dying words,
long, lonely drive with jaws wired shut,
the shhhhhh of the lisp and roads beneath you,
riding partners of Mitties and Pearl.
I never was a cat person.
LATER STILL.
THE NOW.
Even if his ears bother him,
the inclination, the pressing need
listening, little man
smitten by what I’ve written
of ancient shipping systems
a train in the distance
carting new dreams to these way stations
smile curved up like a horseshoe
at the crossroads. Still
making deals with the devil
nailed above the door.
Good luck with that.
INTERIM.
OVER, UNDER, AND THROUGH.
Yet, it always spins back to you.
I pine for what we
once had, if only
because I know it was
nothing.
I long to understand
what these songs meant to you,
us, the tracks missing
love letter liner notes
teased in disappearing ink.
Sun-dappled memories,
a magnetic menagerie
of Ouijiac proportions
ghosting in the gaslit paths
never getting close enough to touch
intestines, spools
pooled about my feet,
lay bare by the pencil eraser.
Spirits from beyond
these lyrics that won’t die.
Dear you,
remember me forever.