summer night in my hometown,
air heavy with the smell
of June roses and burning rubber,
speeding down a lonesome
two-lane highway,
cigarette smoke stinging
his steel blue eyes, me
blowing bubblegum-bubbles,
white lines flying past
faster than falling in love
when you're sixteen.
faster than falling in love
when you're sixteen.
Notes:
I must confess that I tend to get stuck in the 60s.
I love the music, and I love my memories.
At the time, it was hard finding my way.
But looking back, it all seems sweet and lovely.
Pipeline by The Chantays, 1963
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7c2ZKamzS4
I must confess that I tend to get stuck in the 60s.
I love the music, and I love my memories.
At the time, it was hard finding my way.
But looking back, it all seems sweet and lovely.
Pipeline by The Chantays, 1963
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7c2ZKamzS4
2 comments:
Same here, Marianne. I was lost but searching looking to music to help me find the way, and sometimes it did. And your Pipeline, made me remember this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjiOtouyBOg and doing the "Shimmy" till it hurt, but laughing the entire time. Love your poem and all the memories it brings forward. The river that bisects this town and how we didn't cross it unless seeking the best burgers ever made. Still get them, when I can, lol.
Elizabeth
https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/finding-the-pattern/
Beautiful poem about memories, Marianne.
Love,
Pamela
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