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In the Nick of Time | small poet at large

small poet at large

In the Nick of Time

The next generation's Dylan opens with "The House of the Rising Sun"
quips he's the original, dips guitar swaying acolytes like grain to the wind

my nineteen year old son and I drove three and half hours through hail,
sunshine etched windshield, mountain blizzard curtain, and black ice

to hear this voice in this college gym...

The Troubadour salutes Richie Valens Jimi Hendrix The Beatles Kurt Cobain
cues cut through patchoulie, stale smoke, and the snowflake musk lovers splash

bumper sticker shirts, thin arms, hair short to skull shimmering to shoulders
knowing looks lock couples in hip improbable orbits

a girl's smile stretches farther, just when I think it will crack
blonde shag syncopates, turquoise eye winks to scoop my glance

fingers dancing chords on belt remind me of Janie's hand
sliding like plug to guitar in the side pocket of my jeans

eight gallon head in ten gallon hat, Janie's mouth drew lines cross my neck
I traversed her waist as Eric Burden crooned "The House of the Rising Sun"

our bodies filled crevices with falling rock sinew tree line curls
her soles on my shoes,

Janie splashed that smile stretched the corner of her lips to a wink
dashed tongue in ear dotting the i of that promise

I'll be back before you know it...

and drove her car toward Boulder off a cliff switchback
What was her final thought, did she worry her parents would be sad?

after The Troubadour's third encore, I spy the girl’s smile stretching ever wider
return a turquoise wink with a grin and gray wink only she can understand

After all, it's been thirty years.



Published in Concrete Wolf
All rights reserved including copyright - Richard H. Fox 2001


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