It was the anthem of an era – a short-lived era,

and I think only those of us who lived there

could have detected it at the time.

"*******, I'm punk."

There is constant reinvention, recreation, but

I am sure it will never be the effortless –ism it once was.

We are accessible now, but we were visible then.

We were the spectrum, we were the speed,  

an onslaught of red Sunfires and green T-Birds.

There were nights I could swear (to whatever God was to me then)  

that I had seen every last one of them trickle in or out,

sometimes all at once.

There were days I was a constant, an observer,  

terrified of missing whatever "it" wound up being.

Most of the time, I was seemingly absent – maybe soulless, even.

With coaxing, I would be brought back from stratospheric distances

to a camaraderie that seems sacred now.

None of us thought it so back then.

The grip we thought we needed always seemed to elude us.

What we did have was vital to us all,

though we couldn't admit such vulnerability –  

our eyes bugging out and our hearts caving in.

And now, knowing the future is destined to be wavy and unknown

like the tracers leaving callous brushstrokes behind everything they see,

I realize how the brick sidewalk was a sight for sore eyes if I ever stood staring at one,

motionless.