Once we were all rock stars & warriors,
immortal for the moment,
a dangerous swagger and death-defying cool
our only resolve.
Armor clad in leather and denim,
we set out to slay dragons,
our feet tangled up in dreams
and the blue grey smoke from cheap cigarettes.
(The first line of this piece was conceived several months ago. Driving home from work one afternoon, I happened to see a young man of about seventeen stalking down the sidewalk like he owned it. Cigarette dangling from a brooding mouth, he wore a long black leather trench coat, unbuttoned, and a sullen expression, and as he walked, the sides of the coat flapped out behind him like crow wings. He looked like he felt invincible. This is for that kid…)