6.16.2008

Say Anything, but with less John Cusack.

The storm hit and multiple transformers blew
and power lines went down
and I knew it'd take longer than a few hours
and that I wouldn't be able to sleep that night
without the aid of air conditioning and fans
due to the heatwave and humidity
so I grabbed some work clothes for the next day
and headed to my mother's house on the other side of town.

Half a mile down the road I saw where the power grid
must stop, the lights and signs on the other side of the line
making those on my dark side jealous
again.

Volunteers with pick-up trucks and too much spare time
were gathering outside the firehouse like ants
half-clad in black and yellow.
It's another thankless job
that's filled by those with a fetish for it
but those same folks fail
to wrap their overly ambitious little heads
around the fact that if they
perhaps found something more creative to do with their lives
it'd create at least fifty new jobs in the neighborhood.
But I'm no politician and I've already got my union card
safely guarding my wallet and my interests
so I'd be lying if I said I cared enough
to incite a riot or write my local congressman.

Looking down at the T-shirt I had put on for good luck
for my ride through the tumult I laugh to myself through my teeth
at what I know my mom is going to say, at least think: "You didn't
graduate so you're wearing her school's logo instead?"
In the Fifties guys gave their gals their Varsity jackets;
in this new century women pursuing undergraduate degrees give their
college-dropout construction worker boyfriends their T-shirts.
It's an ironic twist of fate and a fad that won't catch
but I've always preferred standing alone in my style.

I decided to make a detour, swing by her house.
I called her up and told her to look out her window
since I wouldn't be able to stop and chat, weather and other
conditions prohibiting. Her curls stuck out against
the dim orange glow of the lamp in her bedroom
as I slowed to a speed not too conspicuous, waved
and wished I could do more.
My stereo played the perfect song for the bad '80s movie moment
but that was no coincidence since I'd put it on repeat
for just such an occasion.

Hey, sometimes you have to make those memories just right
so when you embellish your stories later in life
you won't feel as guilty.

When I got to my mother's house they were all already asleep.
Part of me wished that I'd parked down the road and
ran through the rain so my glimpse through the window
would've been longer.

Sometimes you have to settle for hearing the same thunder.

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