corduroys
doc martens laced
flannels tied around
our waist

smells like teen spirit
strains
as Kurt Cobain sings
there's something in the way

the chronicle
of the higher plain
as simple
as that you accomplish
tears for fears
falling like red rain

The other day
a painting
caught my eye
reminding me of 1994

how carefree we were
senior year
of high quality
symbols scribbled
on converse tennis shoes
Chuck's were preferred

grunge,the revolutionary
psychology  of Seattle
stomped on the airwaves
but everything is zen

I DON'T THINK SO!!!

I dropped a nickel
but did a dime in the playpen
juvenile isn't it