Joined: Tue Nov 23, 2004 1:36 am Posts: 5458 Location: Left field
A cigar is held taut between his two fingers
As he motions me over, “Take a little time out for music,”
He says. I nod my head and hear the opening rhythms of drums
They crash down heavy, like waves, then become
Light.
He is sitting down now, his eyes are slowly closing and his head is tilted
Up while the music washes over him as
Another spiraling cloud of dark gray
Smoke exits his mouth like the summit
Of a dormant volcano.
And as his eyes begin to close I see him driving
A metallic relic with wheels.
His hair is cut short; though in the coming years
It will grow long, and glasses, thin still, rest
On the bridge of his nose. An eight track, blocky, and
Cumbersome blares into the open air and
I hear Lennon plea, and Hendrix,
That mysterious gypsy, lift music into
Another realm.
I see his eyes open and hear him say softly; “ this is music son,”
And I nod my head and say to myself, yes, yes it is.
_________________ seen it all, not at all can't defend fucked up man take me a for a ride before we leave...
Rise. Life is in motion...
don't it make you smile? don't it make you smile? when the sun don't shine? (shine at all) don't it make you smile?
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