A click and then as if by magic
Out of state news, something tragic
A childhood friend has rolled his truck
A rebel I knew ran out of luck

What color and excitement he gave to my youth!
Corrupted me, to tell you the truth
As memories flood, here’s what they bring
Crazy as it was, wouldn’t change a **** thing

In Baron’s mind, did I still reside?
If so, well then, a part of me has died

If dice land right then old we grow
To bear the loss of those we know
The dark list grows, year to year
So rain love now, on those held dear!

May I press?  Waive to your face
A list that grows at quickening pace

Take heed friend - advice for you
Cause bet you have your own list too

Oh fine jewelry worn by men
Wesley's watch is lost again
"Wesley where's your silver Tissot?"
"Sorry Dad, I do not know"
The little ticker is out of its case
Wesley's watch is lost in space
"Oh now where did my keys go?"
"They were right here a minute ago"
"You lost your keys now, did you Son?"
"Can I use your's Mom?"  "Got to run"
"I found my watch, Dad, mixed in with clothes"
"All the time right under my nose"
But lo in five days, maybe ten
Wesley's watch is lost again
"One day boy, it's going to get snatched"
"And it's a **** good thing your ****'s attached"
Well today the watch is on my arm
Safe from Wesley , safe from harm
It feels warm

Wrenches clanging, knuckles banging
A drop of blood
A  new part here, and old part… there
A hotrod had been built!
A patchwork, mechanical, quilt

I drove past the banner that said “Welcome Race Fans”
Took a new route, behind the grandstands
And through my chipped window, I thought I could see
Some of the racers were laughing at me

I guess chalky grey primer is not to their taste
But I put my bucks mister in the right place

I chugged-popped past cars that dealers had sold
Swung into a spot, next to something old

Emerging with interest from under his hood
My neighbor said two words, he said “sounds good”

The voice on the loudspeaker tells us we’re up

Pre-staged, staged, then given the green
The line becomes blurred between man and machine

Bones become linkage
Muscle, spring
Fear, excitement

Time distorts ….
Color disappears …
Vision narrows…
Noise ---  becomes music
Speed --- satisfaction

Drawn by the yearning for direction and gain
To stop the drifting, uncertainty and pain

A dropout, I was, as lost as can be
In desperation said “Mom, I think it’s for me”

The school ‘s real mission was to take in the dough
How much poor Mom stretched, I never will know

Yes, all of that’s true, but the first day I knew
The man we’d call teacher, was a teacher true-blue

He worked for quite little, I now will surmise
But shared well his passion, he opened my eyes

While I was enrolled, the small school did close
Left some of us hanging, like fools, I suppose

But despite the fiasco that was on the surface
I knew what to do, I’d finally found purpose

And so due to Jay (Tranchina)
I was well on my way
And thank him in rhyme
For my life of today.

I made a visit to my old street
No one I know was there to meet
Some trees I’d climbed, I found still there
Green tops now higher in the air

At my old house I then did stop
and lo, no sign of Mom and Pop
Our cats and dogs, our youth sublime
stolen by a thief called time

It takes from us at clockwork speed
all those we love and those we need
and finds us wanting for the past
while knowing what is now can’t last

“Can you hear me?”  “Can you hear me?”  …. “Come-in”
Boys with “walkie-talkies”, walking and talking, squealing and squawking
The girls were chalking – on the sidewalk
Range, one quarter mile.  More over water, the box said

If all you hear is static
Run some wire in your attic
Or tie it to your gutter
“Can you hear me?”  You may utter

Copper wire strung on a fence
For Russian signals the pretense
Every beep, buzz and whistle
Was that to do with someone’s missile?

A weather fax for steaming ships,  “doodle doodle” sound
Deadly tips!

Vacuum tubes soft-lit for me
RCA, Westinghouse, and GE
Their glow-warm magic casting a spell
A hook set lightly - I could not tell

Gizmos, and gadgets, in crate after crate
Rolled into the business - helped shape my fate
War surplus it was, "truck's in" they would holler
Purchased for two-bits on the dollar

So thank you Dad – the hook you set
grew into a job, my needs were met
A needed change, a needed change

Courtesy, Machinery Exchange

I do believe it wonderfully true
That loved-ones and friends never leave you

That who we are is bone and skin
and the places we fill in other’s “within”

For those to whom ourselves we gave
We stay with them till they meet grave

And we, still waking, breathing to live
Hold in us, what they did give