Felt Like Nebraska

Never could fathom the ’70’s
What 60’s Kids admired
Left this old soul bewildered
These eyes always seemed to need the sun
Mediocre music, odd politics
Old Paint horsepower commanded by screaming chickens
Oh, the Pacers that couldn’t keep up
But for that tripartite campout for peace
Those white-washed years are yours
Such conspiracy — felt like Nebraska

Bring me King Elvis
King of Cool — or Dean, if you please
War heroes at the helm
Courage in the courts
Damn right, Topeka — you’re wrong
Steel with Crowns
Jets
Chieftains
Bench seats so we can stay close on cold nights
California Dreaming, it seems…my zodiac sign

It Kills Me

I cannot remember the words

The top-ten song that found us there, together again that night

A vintage crimson string, tethering us to our wild years

All we knew in common, refined in the storm of them

I sang to you in the sheets we shared

That now escaped melody, I swear to you, sugar, it kills me

If you heard me, say you remember the words

Linear Track

You should turn on your headlights and come drive ’round here

Get here fast, then cruise real slow

For this pavement may not be ready yet for such a soulful soul

Such intention and growl, bold and sweet, has long been absent from this street

May spinning wheels find linear track

Have a song playing loud in your heart, so the whole neighborhood knows

Your intentions

Whatever they may be

I’ve no wants or words of wisdom there, and you’ll do what you want, anyway

As you should, but I will say

You should turn on your headlights and come drive ’round here

Music

My longing drips from every note and I’m quite tired from it

The truth is others dance away while I am fated to sit

The aching seems to fuel the band of devils in this cruel world

What do I sing of hope and love to the woman and the girl?

Mute

I take back the lavender and the twin beds we pushed together, drunk on the pollen

Those saltwater waves and sand dunes?
Say goodbye

Every mile of concrete, each and every city song — mine alone, now!
Hot gravity and thick urban beats, such gifts I do revoke

But the mountains
I’ll let you keep
For you were late
You fell asleep
And they don’t remember you, anyway

Magician’s Scarf

Who each woman is

Does she smell like lavender fields

More worthy of obsession with each passing Day

Why the fabric of her dress upon her skin causes men to sing?

The Earth springs forth, as I imagine, musical notes with her every step. Yes.

Such passion must she follow, as to leave us inspired

Her smile draws from an endless-deep joy well

Words from her soul have him come hither, a pulling of magician’s scarf