the way we were

i'm having a flashback to the end of the summer i turned sixteen. all it takes is a whiff of a clove cigarette whilst trickling out of the subway, and suddenly i'm just gone. i'm back across the street from the high school in stinabunny's brown toyota, masquerading as kathryn hughes, perfecting the fine art of perryspeak with the tribe that had just adopted me. watching the skater boys work on their tricks in between hits off their glass pipes behind the skate shop dumpster

empty coffee cups from aroma's comprising the backseat.

half empty packets of american spirits blinking turquoise in the high summer light.

tori amos on the radio, she caught a lite sneeze and we already knew the words.

these were the people who taught me to smoke to swear to understand to listen to the music to create the music but never take it too seriously to listen to each other to create ourselves but never take it too seriously.

and remember that the fate of the world is riding on it all in the same breath.

we were the music makers, we were the dreamers of the dreams, we are the ones that were going to change the world.

and i've never stopped believing that.

i miss the carass, sometimes. it may be time to send up ye olde bat-signal. get the skinny on all the kids.

the idea has merit.

but, in the meantime, i'm going to go hang out at a coffee shop with roos and drink a latte granita, smoke blue-packeted american spirits, loiter uncontrollably and reminisce about fashion crimes past and the incessant tribal crossdating that was our california experience.

it'll be just like old times.