us boys
walking the streets
big striding
in jeans n'plaid shirts
shot the knees out clean
with pellet guns
ragged, rock n'roll
Tragically Hip tape
humming, hissing, in the deck
"Blow at High Dough"
our anthem
got everybody singing
hollering every word
with our best Gordie voice
drive out some
dusty dark country road
to party in a field
pretty girls, faces lit
with campfire glow
sipping beers,
catching her smiles
bottles pile
fire burns low
time to go
getaway before
drunken fists swings
to ruin the perfect
smalltown night
I can feel the fizz of cold Labatt's,
ReplyDeletethe sting of the mosquitos and the crackle of the wood. I can see the eyes of Teddy "Butterscotch" Miller bearing down on me as I'm tasting his sister's lips. We'll fight when the kissin's done.
HP
This is quite a journey you take us on...I can see the images your words conjure with crystal clarity...nicely done.
ReplyDeleteThe photo looks like an old LP album cover from Back in the Day:)You took me on a journey back. I never partied in a field, but on the blockades to stop the clearcutting of old growth, there was always a morning fire, with someone softly tapping on tomtoms in the glow...........sigh. Great poem!It sounds like such a fun time - everyone singing!!
ReplyDeleteOld Ollie,
ReplyDeleteYou formed the perfect night out.
One of those nights from 'way back when', that I never wanted to end either.
Thank you for a pleasant 'look back'!!!
Best wishes, Eileen :)