A Prose Poem
The guitars were heavy then, with a lot of metal. The drums were a big brother, speaking with power, no whimpiness, never just coasting, only driving full speed. Chevys with mag wheels, spinning, fish-tailing, calling the grown-ups liars, because it was all about the anger. V8’s roaring. Anger of our youth, in the parking lot of McDonald’s with beer, hanging out. Quick hide it!
Dates at the movies, sometimes in the car, wondering who she really was, but not listening to her voice. She did have a beautiful….way. Searching the starlights, wanting to feel alive, maybe it’s in the Zen? She was on a different level, I was on the ground looking at the trees, breaking boards in Tae Kwon Do.
The answers were in the woods then. Never alone but solitude, comforting, calling like a silent snow falling on the trees. I discovered I had a spirit, but needed a job. Working, money, more car money, fixing the tail pipes.
And then there was college, an experiment really. Looking for the right one, but I would not meet My Love, until years later. I had some growing up to do. Thankfully, she understood me.
Writing © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree
image from wallpaper-kid via google
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“If you love nature, you will love people.”