To Sam And Dave Poem by Bengt O Björklund

Poignant by proxy, it seemed,
as I saw myself on a slow slide,
denying all disastrous days,
now nameless without content
other than the haunting reminiscence,
a song, a word and a faded place
so full of adolescent aspiration
and a longing that is almost tangible.

Yes, yes, I can see it all, even your face
as you lean over to whisper
the price of heavily pressed charcoal
with your most secretive voice.

Once upon a lost summer night,
my back against the tilted roof,
I perforated the starry sky
with pure madness to the sight
of an erratic light spinning
way out of control.

All it takes is a song.