Route 84 would not lend me the light of a star last night Radio blazing at 75 mph nonsense noise to chew gum by Crackling political commentary Static of distance and thick clouds Invisible mountains blocking Memories seeping through the cracks coating the music in a film I rub my eyes watch myself punch alert buttons But it’s the angels’ jukebox tonight
Roll down the window Watch the heat escape
I am building a castle of ancient stones pulverized by relentless tides Dragged across maps by mastodons and mammoth glaciers The scouring hiss the ocean sighs Time has lulled these smoothly rolling them in the softest hands of sand and gels of life’s comings and goings tenderly tumbling in the millionth moonrise— Time deposits them here wet and glistening
For the girl with the plaid two-piece to gather Shoulders sun-burnt barely say one week only, one week of the fifty two “It’s the time of the season…” and daddies on the beach are watching….
She has chosen yet another stone And the castle continues— in oblivion to all but her legend…
The queen will be safe here from the rabble The disgraced Tristan will surely seek her Among these lofty cliffs Between the raging circuit of the tide Here winds forbid the vengeful mob Here lovers learn the debt of love’s bad timing “Drink ye all of it!” --the potion that assigns our sorrow…. She will not sleep— while I chew this gum-- GUM?
Roll down the window!
Angels escape with the heat Waking me with the brush of their wings
As that eighteen-wheeler hugs my flank And leans on the horn Lights flashing Rude rumbling under right tires Tantrum of snow In the draft of mass and velocity
…and the angels? They’ve chosen another good one! They must’ve liked the 80’s Their wings slapping the windshield madly Their hands steady the wheel
As a fourteen-year old, I picked up a book to read at the beach about the legend of the lovers, Tristan and Iseult. I was so captivated by their story that it ruled my imagination that summer.
Anyway, I still think of it when I think of the ocean-- as I did on this cold dark occasion when I should have pulled off somewhere for a coffee, but I was trying to beat the snow storm home. Route 84, also known as Dead Bambi Highway, has a desolate, treacherous section going over the mountains between NY and Pennsylvania. Didn't have much option for music at the time, so I leaned heavily on the radio pushing the search button to find anything bearable-- not too much static. Song reference in this: "Time of the Season" by the Zombies-- all time favorite beach song that happened to be on the radio that night.