I visit my youthful stomping ground less and less each year. Somehow, the place seems damaged to me. Like a ripe apple that has fallen into the grass. It might be shiny and delicious looking on the top, but when you bend to pick it up, you can see it’s mushy and bruised underneath.
don’t judge fallen fruit
by the color of its skin
rot begins inside
on a mountain top
in a cathedral of trees—
god speaks through nature
At my favorite bar,
the one I hate the least.
I don’t know the music,
drifting out to the streets.
I have to sit outside,
cause I can’t stand the crowd.
Don’t know what they’re saying,
the music’s too damn loud.
Over in the corner,
playing the hipster scene.
There’s two twenty somethings,
hitting on a prom queen.
Sipping their microbrew,
trying to impress her.
All the while their eyes are,
trying to undress her.
But the sun warms my face,
this beer is good and cold.
Sitting at this table,
watching the day get old.
My youth may be gone now,
but I don’t have regrets.
I lived the way I want,
that’s as good as it gets.
I pulled to the side of highway B and walked to the center of the bridge that spanned Wakenda creek. I stared in disbelief at my childhood playground. I spent countless hours here hunting, fishing, throwing smoke bombs at passing cars, fighting make believe wars, exploring life and learning about love. Now just an impersonal ditch cut through unrecognizable farmland. Gone are the grain elevators that in my childhood seemed to touch the clouds in the sky. No more houses with white siding and green shingled roofs. No childhood home, no trees, no life… Nothing left except the tears in my eyes.
time must move forward—
leaving only memories
to fill up my heart
I guess every town in America has one. Heck, maybe even every town in the world. You know what I'm talking about. The cruising loop. The place every teenager goes to see, and be seen by, anyone that counts.
Even Wakenda, Missouri with its population of 150 people had one. Of course, with its 5 streets that ran north and south and another 5 that ran east and west, (if you were generous with what qualified as a street) it was a little harder to define it as cruising the loop.
Cruising Wakenda was more suited for using one's feet or a bicycle than a car. Fortunately, since walking didn't cost more money than what I had in my pockets, for me that was never a problem.
Wakenda, Missouri in the late 1960's and early 70's was a pretty small town with not too many places where one could "hang out". We had the drive that circled the elementary school, Womack's Garage, the grain elevators, and the alley behind the pig lot was just about the extent of it.
But sometime, when one of my older brothers felt generous, I was invited to ride along to the big-time cruising in Carrollton. Where we drove the loop past the Dog-N-Suds, over the railroad pass, around the roller rink, up to the park, around the square and down the hill to Bruce's Burger Bar. Pretty much, the same thing, except now, I had to help pay for gas.
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