prose

Dessert, desert… whichever one matches

I drove across the mountains,

not for the first time,

but for the first time in a long time. 

As I watched 

the landscape changed 

with the altitude,

then I descended 

back down 

to the other side.

I watched 

as the surroundings 

reverted 

to wilderness;

it seemed both familiar 

and foreign. 

I once haunted 

this half of the state…

reluctantly. 

Now I was coming back,

just for my own entertainment. 

Still, I had to pause 

at a trailer-park

where once lived,

wondering;

“How was it,  I ever sustained myself 

in this miserable little corner 

of the world?”

Children were playing 

where once I worried 

about money, 

paychecks,

bills,

and the day-to-day.

Then I continued

to the hotel I had booked, 

and the concert

that had brought me

east. 

I would go on to have

an awesome night…

but for those kids

(back at the trailer park)

tomorrow 

would just be tomorrow,

but I 

would return 

home. 

How is this 

progress? 

Sundays…… and so on

Some great songs

from 30 years ago

(thanks prime)

and my mind reels 

at the conversion

from youth

to ruin…

 …well,

drama aside, 

it feels that sudden. 

Yesterday I popped

that singular cassette

into my dumpy car 

(a car more loved 

than any “far-better” car

I have owned since) 

and watched the world

reveal itself  to me

while inviting me

to the glories of a youth

unfolding. 

Today…

well, 

my four-year-old seems intrigued

by the music

of yesterday. 

Old…

or older…

It sucks,

and the perspective gained

goes ignored.