Zod wrote:
> On Saturday, April 8, 2023 at 10:25:17 PM UTC-4, Will Dockery wrote:
> > General-Zod wrote:
> > > Will Dockery wrote:
>
> > >> Desolation Summer
> >
> > >> Last Spring
> > >> I waited downstairs
> > >> on the
> > >> empty street below.
> >
> > >> After waiting a while
> > >> I tossed a penny
> > >> up to her window
> > >> but still she didn't show.
> >
> > >> A thought came to me then
> > >> it told me to walk away.
> >
> > >> I didn't need to
> > >> live through
> > >> that year again once through 1975 was plenty.
> >
> > >> So I sit here in my hovel
> > >> and I wear
> > >> the required mask.
> >
> > >> I know that
> > >> we shall live again
> > >> this too shall pass.
> >
> > >> Starting on this poem
> > >> I pick for a topic.
> >
> > >> A year
> > >> almost as odd
> > >> as this one.
> > >> Filled with humor
> > >> tension and fear.
> >
> > >> It taxed my patience
> > >> wondering what
> > >> would come next.
> >
> > >> One day after another
> > >> none better
> > >> and never the best.
> >
> > >> It was 1975
> > >> all that adolescent angst.
> >
> > >> As I read "Howl"
> > >> and "Planet News"
> > >> in my new abode
> > >> a tent in the back yard.
> >
> > >> Spring came and went
> > >> dark and brooding
> > >> with a jester facade.
> >
> > >> We were getting our kicks
> > >> way out in the sticks.
> >
> > >> I was popping little white pills
> > >> and focused
> > >> on the white lines
> > >> of River Road.
> >
> > >> Taxi driving
> > >> a few freaks
> > >> out to the rocks
> > >> of Mulberry Creek.
> >
> > >> Jump cut to Summer
> > >> for me it was
> > >> Highway 61 Revisited
> > >> and Metal Machine Music
> > >> and "a lot of soul," he said.
> >
> > >> Making my way through
> > >> Jack Kerouac
> > >> what few titles
> > >> I could find that year.
> >
> > >> Summer vacation was on
> > >> I was now
> > >> in the practice room
> > >> of a band named Blue Heat.
> >
> > >> I was writing lyrics
> > >> where the light was
> > >> by the window.
> >
> > >> And there on that
> > >> Desolate weekend
> > >> in a shack outside La Grange
> > >> we recorded
> > >> a few more songs.
> >
> > >> Where was Heather
> > >> she who
> > >> we fought over so?
> >
> > >> She'd evaded us all
> > >> and was long gone.
> >
> > >> We traded a few letters
> > >> me in La Grange
> > >> she in Dothan.
> >
> > >> Swore we'd never forget
> > >> that lasted until mid-Summer.
> >
> > >> I came back to the city
> > >> and was swept up
> > >> in a rapid fire
> > >> series of situations.
> >
> > >> When there seemed
> > >> no other choice
> > >> but to follow
> > >> that political machine.
> >
> > >> I was not surprised
> > >> we'd meet again among the pines.
> >
> > >> I sat at the piano
> > >> and pecked out the tune
> > >> about an old man
> > >> who lived one yard over.
> >
> > >> The Island Girl named Shirley
> > >> she was new in town
> > >> her father now stationed
> > >> at Fort Benning.
> >
> > >> We made eye contact
> > >> and both knew
> > >> at first sight
> > >> we wanted to experiment.
> >
> > >> She was fast
> > >> and used a New York twang
> > >> we clicked fast.
> >
> > >> My father had given me
> > >> an electric blue
> > >> 1969 Plymouth Satellite
> > >> she jumped in with me
> > >> for a ride.
> >
> > >> I kicked the radio up loud
> > >> kicked in third gear
> > >> and listened
> > >> as she sang along
> > >> with the tunes.
> >
> > >> In many ways
> > >> there never was another
> > >> dark night of the soul.
> >
> > >> Quite like 1975
> > >> turned out to me
> > >> for both Shirley and me.
> >
> > >> It taxed
> > >> my spirit and soul
> > >> the negative events
> > >> of that year.
> >
> > >> Events that kept unfolding
> > >> ending so much
> > >> I had held dear.
> >
> > >> Sickness and violence
> > >> in that strange new age.
> >
> > >> I was buzzing along
> > >> Buena Vista Road
> > >> just past the Spiderweb
> > >> and cut in line too close.
> >
> > >> Racism was real
> > >> I could see it
> > >> from my rear view
> > >> I could see the rage.
> >
> > >> Rusty Volt shaking his fist
> > >> an ass whipping for me
> > >> from a football jock
> > >> I was suddenly on his list.
> >
> > >> Hung a right onto
> > >> Lindsay Creek Bypass.
> >
> > >> Time for some Steve McQueen
> > >> night moves.
> >
> > >> Rope a dope driving
> > >> down the highway.
> >
> > >> Shirley was laughing
> > >> but it was no joke.
> >
> > >> My slick moves
> > >> in traffic
> > >> even I had to laugh
> > >> at those.
> >
> > >> I was young and brash
> > >> and I spotted his car at times.
> >
> > >> But I knew
> > >> the backstreets
> > >> better than him.
> >
> > >> It taxed my imagination
> > >> to see such a negative scene.
> >
> > >> It happened so fast
> > >> without foreshadowing.
> >
> > >> We all made our way
> > >> through that dim
> > >> yet blazing year.
> >
> > >> The best we could
> > >> any way that we could.
> >
> > >> Living like an animal
> > >> perhaps
> > >> like Mother Nature planned
> > >> even giving up my name.
> >
> > >> My father was angry
> > >> to the point that
> > >> he was stalking me.
> >
> > >> I had broken the code
> > >> and he'd broken
> > >> my confidence in him.
> >
> > >> I had stopped
> > >> by the house
> > >> Shirley was with me.
> >
> > >> What was I thinking
> > >> that everything was rhetorical?
> >
> > >> My father was next door
> > >> sitting with Robert
> > >> on the front porch.
> >
> > >> I glanced as I passed by
> > >> saw his cold blue stare.
> >
> > >> Then came the weeks
> > >> of intense
> > >> bitter disappointment
> > >> with everything and everyone
> > >> I had trusted.
> >
> > >> Both sides were
> > >> against us
> > >> and Shirley folded
> > >> and her father put her
> > >> into another school.
> >
> > >> I became withdrawn
> > >> strumming
> > >> "House of the Rising Sun"
> > >> for hours without even singing.
> >
> > >> Rusty Volt caught me
> > >> in the parking lot
> > >> weeks later
> > >> one day after school
> >
> > >> After the bottom fell out
> > >> and I
> > >> had conceded defeat.
> >
> > >> But much to my surprise Rusty had changed.
> > >> Rather than fighting
> > >> he asked
> > >> if I had a joint to smoke.
> >
> > >> The war was over
> > >> both personal
> > >> and in the 'Nam
> > >> just in time
> > >> in both cases.
> >
> > >> Murder is a crime
> > >> The Clash set that straight
> > >> forty years ago...
> > >> "Know your rights... all three of them."
> >
> > >> But all that
> > >> was still to come
> > >> in grim and greasy November.
> >
> > >> Traffic on Cusetta Road
> > >> was backed up
> > >> like some funeral procession.
> >
> > >> I slowly drove
> > >> as the rain fell
> > >> so all alone
> > >> again.
> >
> > >> Madness and decay
> > >> as reality slips away.
> >
> > >> If I had proof
> > >> it was a hoax
> > >> then I might have
> > >> joined him on the line.
> >
> > >> But I learned
> > >> a long time ago
> > >> alliances
> > >> can be fleeting.
> >
> > >> Those who stand
> > >> for abstract ideas
> > >> may sometimes fall
> > >> for anything.
> >
> > >> -Will Dockery (July 19 2020)
> >
> > >> ----
> > >> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > >> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/desolation-summer.html
> >
> >
> > > Another one of best...!
> > Thanks again for reading and commenting.
> >
>
> Good day to you Doc...

Good afternoon, my friend.

:)