These Days

These Days

I always loved rolling the windows down

and breathing in the sultry air, feeling

the booming music vibrate and shake

the windows and mirrors

of that cheap ’98 Honda almost gone

to rack and ruin. Giggling and basking

in a whiskey-induced haze.

The way the torrid July wind swept

the long chestnut hair from my bronzed

shoulders and washed out

any headaches waiting to happen.

The sun sinking down causing every

boulder and hill to become silhouettes

like those in a children’s picture book,

a reminder of what it was like to be so free

and easy.

Stopping at a rundown gas station

on the corner of Main St. and flirting

our way into being twenty-one

with the cashier. Ignoring missed calls

and “Where are you?” voices

from concerned moms and dads.

All my friends and I parked the beaten-down

car on a dirt & gravel patch, out of reach

from responsibility waiting to ensue,

and admired the pine trees looming over us

like a mother watching over her sleeping child.

Dancing and stumbling around to Aerosmith’s

“Sweet Emotion” playing through the only

radio station in our town. The peeking curve

of the sun casting rays on the last quarter of the sky

like a glowing nightlight on a bedroom wall.