Not how you thought it was supposed to go – not how you pictured it.
You know the movies – break up – change of heart – say you’re sorry – lip-lock – happy ending.
None of that.
Strange silence – preoccupied with floor, otherwise blank – mumbling – taking a different route – phone stops ringing.
Something happened – you don’t know what – can’t put your finger on it – crazy over sleepless nights.
Same classes – vacant sideways glance – same bus – not on it. Ocean of rumors. Who did she meet?
So you pound your feet and pound your pillow and look skyward – something you said?
It was that party – it was that guy – never saw him before – just moved here, now he’s making moves – now she doesn’t answer the phone.
You’re old clothes now – last week’s bath water – stale joke everybody knows. Mystery left the building – you became familiar territory.
This day last Spring – suddenly love – big promises – deep secrets – flush-face breathless – parents gone for weekends – skin, touching and heart-pounding discoveries.
Learning all about Prince Matchabelli, pantyhose and limits.
It’s Deep-dark past now. Nothing but sighs and lost with no future all on the same bus heading no place with your name on it.
You wonder what she’s thinking – what she’s thinking right now – right this second – not you.
Can’t eat – lost your stomach a few memories back – your friends shake their heads – your mom and dad ask what’s wrong – you pretend; nothing.
Is there a hole to crawl in? Is there an empty space big enough? You and love are no longer on speaking terms.
Station 8 isn’t the same – the beach seems strange -the waves look bored – fog, mist, chilly breeze – it’s gloom after all – just like you.
You’re convinced it’s forever – doomed to live your life miserable – crappy Karma – pissed somebody off in another life – they’re getting back at you.
Nothing like being at the love-in all by yourself on a Sunday – nothing like being alone in a crowd of thousands.
Something about eyes staring holes through you – never saw her before in your life – something about Patchouli. Something about a wild mass of ringlets.
Don’t say a word to each other – just hold hands like you’ve known forever. Is this what forever looks like? Does forever have a name?
You’ll greet it with open arms – how life changes on a fistful of dimes.
Nice, how the sun feels.
And there’s Humble Harve and 93 KHJ – all on February 3, 1967 – just so you remember – just so you know what it sounded like.
