Saturday, December 8, 2018

Rebellion ~ Saturday, 8 December 2018

At fifty years of age, I will put these childish 
things away, they belong in a box for old age. 

Fifty years will soon pass, at the end of next June, 
if I am so lucky, I will celebrate with 
friends I have known over decades, I live 
thousands of miles away, in Chicago, 
yet they may come, all from California. 

Yes, when I turned rwenty, they threw me a party, 
everytime I look back, I can't believe how Scott 
arranged with Cat to pick me up and drive me there, 
remember our last year together in H.B., 
surprised at how dizzy Cat drove me in circles.

Only, with a blindfold over my eyes, dizzy 
fell to knowing my way in our hometown, backwards. 

As she drove in circles, in a school parking lot, 
given my awareness, she drove counterclockwise, 
ending any remote chance to sense direction. 

I lost my way in life, long, long before that day.

Will all the LSD I took while in high school 
induce enlightenment, hardly likely, so why 
let hallucinations lead me down the wrong path, 
let me ask why one path is right, the other, wrong? 

Perhaps this revision to my own misguided 
understanding lacks morals, or even clarity 
to decide what was best for myself as a kid. 

Truly, how different life would be if I never 
hungered to see beyond this strange reality, 
endless waves crash on shore, I couldn't fathom time 
simply because my grip loosened over those years, 
endless waves wash out, back to sea to go nowhere? 

Cherish my days with friends in a defunct punk band, 
how will I ever get those days back, those years lost, 
in old H.B., back then, we made friends and grew up, 
letting Spirit take each of us on a journey, 
dance partners for the rest of time, we kept in touch, 
indeed, for forty years, two went professional, 
still the others, like me, found our art, in writing 


however, I found time to understand the world. 

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