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Submitted by Esker on Thu, 2016-03-24 20:09

Trim Package Option on a Late Model

Hot Friday nite
Boomtown Rats rail from the jukebox
the rolling spine of the hardwood plant
windows shines below through the brick
alleys of the hill-town
In the Dance-Hall Arcade
Ferguson sits with his boyz
and the girls clump together
like the smart mascara they wear
hanging off the young men's arms
with fresh looks and muscle cars
parked on an angle
PEPSI COLA blares light loud
over the cash register and candy
racks
the tokers work the arcade machines
in fluid motions making transactions
and not missing a hit on asteroid
or the rack track consoles

I'm in a corner with the resturant girl
teaching me how to play Hearts
her smile contagious and radiant
she stands up in her jumper and
takes my hand
when a song by the band Heart
comes on
Barracuda...
we shuffle in our shoes with a few
others watching the traffic glow
past the tall single pane sliders
and small groups outside
smoking on the deck
Dark Balsams on the hill lot
sway like Van Goghs painting
of cedars
the light in her hair shines
"It's Pantene!" she yells
"good for split ends"
and we laugh and I hug
her hard
the song ends and I take
her by the hand through
the crowd and down
the worn wooden steps
stained redwood
walk her to the passenger
door to the fullsize Torino
give her a kiss before she
slides in the passenger seat
and the small group of guys
and girls cheer
we drive off together
my arm about her
..
its winter and Im fifty one
forgetting all about this
until today
when I heard a girl singing
this harsh on the street
but she knew all the words
and like a memory stirred
the lock opened
like the magic of the cold
blowing snow
and that summer
drifted back
humid and inviting
soft and dark
welcome and
soothing

....

Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

eightmenout

Sat, 2016-03-26 01:16

I was there, you know
At least I thought I was
I know I truly wanted to be
Perhaps I wasn't invited
Or maybe I was and I just didn't show
Does it really matter
as long as I remember it this way?

The fire was large
Punishing the night sky
As Tears For Fears shouted on the stereo
I didn't know who she was
But she had been there the entire time
I had yet to see her face
Amidst the snug sweater
The half sleeves kept to her sleek arms
Tickling at her elbows
It was red with two buttons down
Folded in perfect alignment with the chain
holding a charm against her chest
Her blonde hair tangled at her shoulders
At least I thought it did
I lost track when she reached up high
The bottom revealing her navel.
I don't know if what she caught
Meant much to her
But it was dang sure important to me
I may not have believed in god at the time
But I was beginning to believe in angels

And then there it was
The curfew bell, that is
A parting stare as I emptied my cup
And roared that engine for home
Then I saw her halo
Twinkle with a star
And another
And then, another
I reached for my stack of cassettes
And pulled out a mix tape
It was filled with sappy love songs from the eighties
An ex-gal had left it with me
I fed it to my supersized music machine
And dared the world
To make me turn it down

Soon, the car was driving itself
As we swayed to the serenade
Upon the half-lit moon
Both of us knowing
The sun would burn us
Far too soon
Though that moment would never come to be
As I found my pillow
And a smile in my sleep
Where I lost her
In my dreams

Scott

Esker

Sun, 2016-03-27 14:31

Esker's picture

muse of desire
kickers of ass
mothers of misfortune
the tide winds in the night grass
and shadows of the fall...

I still meet the new up and coming
I remember well..
from the high school gatherings
our intimidating group of jocks artists
and intellectual well dressed coiffed
and unkempt misfits

the particular sons and daughters in industrial
settings where I worked
was held
groomed
placed

my women I am remembering now
with the alone time...the
nice room time
the re turned life time
of fallow weeds
for a new crop of ideals
in this old mans
eyes
still with an edge
and a spring in the worn
battered miles

the angels of then
and still in contact
few are the
lighthouses and beacons
to the reefs
the stars that spin and glitter
in the night
on quiet walks
beneath the lights
the laughs I hear
in the mall
the shy smiles

I was bad
and I was good
it was the way
it is

thank U
we are writers
taking time
to recall
the felt tales
of the
memory
that survives
in the ruins
and periphery
of hearts
and mind!

..

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