Classic Rock
Aug 8 2016


Every summer has its song.

An anthem 
of rock & roll.
Or something danceable 
at the beach
or easily strummed,
you imagine sung 
by California girls
drenched in sunshine.

Or thumping from a fast car
idling in the park
rocking on its springs,
windows shut
steaming-up
with urgent breath.

I dislike top 40 radio.
And like most people of a certain age
the latest music leaves me cold.
But the song
that 16-year-old heard
is coded in my DNA
and fills me with the same hot thrill.
When everything was possible.
When I was on top of the world.

I surprise myself,
singing along with the words
I seem to know by heart
those simple 4/4 chords.

Even in the Alzheimer’s ward
they play the music of their youth,
a well-meaning pianist
pounding away at the keys.
She sings with gusto,
and even lost souls
are drawn back from their wanderings,
the garbled and withdrawn
latch on to the verse.
Faces brighten, feet tap
mouths form the words.

Because it was always a golden age, back then;
“classic rock”, we say
no matter who, or when.

I wouldn’t know
the song of this summer
as it plays and plays,
snatches from a passing car
or tinkling out of ear buds.
But I know it will be the soundtrack 
to some young man's life
who feels just as I once did,
trembling on the cusp
of something great.