Slamin' Growin' Up Alone (2 phases)
by Odin odin@aflx.com — Read all 3,869 poems by Odin odin@aflx.com
A revisit to some nostalgia (instead of getting relegated to the “forgetful” attic) gets another dusting off to relive some coming of age – the slam way.
(Image by Pinterest)
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Slamin’ Growin’ Up Alone (2 phases)
oh yeah
it was a very good year
yes it was
'56 and coast to coast two-lanes
pickup trucks comin'
chrome finned luxury goin'
hog pens stinkin'
corn troughs feedin'
grain silos and wheat fields
peekin' ‘tween Burma Shave signs wavin'
ahh
happy pee times
and food stops
Wonder Bread and mayonnaise
thunderhead clouds
soakin' locust caked asphalt
reflectin' streetlights and headlights
colors goin' wild
just me in my flamingo ford ‘53
broken bird ornament
atop prime-painted hood
flyin' high we was
radio blastin' Shake Rattle and Roll
me nodding to myself
uh huh
uh huh
i'm bad
i'm smokin'
i'm smilin'
i'm adult now
so damn adult now
laughable
so laughable
don't make 'em like that anymore
first road trip alone
so alone and free
not knowing up ahead
my hubris shadow was stirrin'
about to teach me what alone
really meant--
alone
2 of 2 - the happening after that “Growing Up Alone,” when livin’ bad was just a maturing up stage. Thinking back, I think there’s a little bit of that gristle still in me, 60 + years later.
1956
a street called MacDougal
home turf of Dylan
Ginsberg
Pollock
O'Neill
Caribbean Restaurant
haunt of
Baldwin
Brando
Miller
and me
with my first cup a joe
at Cafe Reggio
out the window
where a pre-Woodstock love child warmed up
tokin' peace and love
copin' with undulating heat
risin' above baking street
meltin' stomped-on sidewalk gum wads
spawnin' grins from delinquent kids takin' bets
on dancin' feet
on angry feet
where barbers stare longingly
out cigar clouded windows
long hair the king
haircuts endangered species
me
them
didn't expect so much hair
you know
such swirling hair
like shredded angel wings
whipping shoulder blades to fly
fly goddamn it
hims
hers
who the hell could tell
heroin induced flashing
parades up one side
down the other
never even gettin' a raised eyebrow
here
where once I sipped espresso
never blinking
wanting to catch everything
wow
me
midwest born and raised
starting to grow up in NYC
must be a dream
swooning to myself
has to be a dream
man
that first impression
happening so quickly
scary
thrilling
New York City
returning to my Hell's Kitchen hotel
(picked that special)
settled into my first beer
bells and whistles sounded
all it took at 18
with only 3 weeks into my first taste
(religious upbringing creates cheap drunks)
Schaefer brew
billboards sayin' "Antonino Rocca's beer"
flying drop kicker
black and white TV's biggest draw
wrestling
of course I bought his brand
swirling in wind's repressive heat
dingy curtains waved in and out my window
merciless captivity
this was Manhattan
I smiled
oh yeah
I smiled
tossed the shirt
grabbed a look in the mirror
sweat glistening atop my skinny frame
me here
all that out there
locked my door
popped another suds
dreamed
gotta get into this madman's playground
paradise for a wet-behind-the-ears kid
then there was a few years later
the real MacDougal street
‘til it wasn't
‘til they tried to make it...
something else…
like me
somethin’ else
Hollywood’s lore
tryin’ to make me
unlike me…
tryin’ to keep me from
growing up