I'M SUPPOSED TO DENY THESE THINGS
NOT GIVE IN
BUT THE OLD SONGS HAUNT AND
TAUNT
WHISKEY ALWAYS TASTES BETTER
IN MY MEMORY
MUSIC SOUNDS BETTER
LIKE ANTHEMS
AND THESE ARE THE SIGNS OF GROWING OLDER
I AM NOT BEING NOSTALGIC
I'M JUST ASKING QUESTIONS
SITTING ON THE CURB
OR AT THE CORNER BAR STOOL
TALKING TO A BARTENDER
WHO HAS NO RECOLLECTION
OF WHEN I WAS YOUNG
I FELL IN LOVE AT THE METRO
WHILE BOB MOULD
PLAYED ACOUSTIC
I WAS STILL IMMORTAL THEN
WAITING
FOR A ROCK AND ROLL VARIATION
OF CRUCIFIXION
SOMETHING QUICK AND COLORFUL
WITH ELECTRIC LIGHTS
OR A LASER SHOW
THIS IS NOT...
NOT NOSTALGIA
IN THE SOAP OPERA
DAYS OF YOUTH
WE BEGGED TO CHANGE THE CHANNEL
AND NOW I SIT
IN THIS CHAIR
ON THIS CURB
AT THE CORNER BAR STOOL
FIGHTING TO STAY AWAKE
TO CATCH A GLIMPSE
OF SOMETHING THAT MADE ME LAUGH
OR MAYBE
AN OLD VIDEO
OF MY FAVORITE SONG.
IT CHANGED A LONG TIME AGO
ReplyDeleteBorn in the gap, that
chasm between,
I
form a poor bridge,
a
witness to change, young enough to
think the distaste mirrored in the mouths of friends would bring change
instead of disinterest.
. . .
Born in that gap, I
sit at the corner bar stool
wondering if I should chat up a bartender
why
the animation my nieces and nephew watch
looks cheap
and ill thought out.
I
clutch to hopes of nostalgia, as
I hit on women
who were in diapers when I discovered death, others
who remember a decade I never knew
a
poor bridge
between growing older, and still young
with
a slipping foundation
and even less certainty
of the gap
I’m stretched over.