A long time ago, maybe this time of year. the long, wind blown, bruise colored clouds, pulled tight across the late day sky, when the suns going down like salt water taffy is pulled in candy store windows, on Catalina Island. Thats how I remember it. And once in awhile, Ill check to see if the scars still there- below the spot where you check the pulse- I press down gently, the white scar tissue circle will appear. A long time ago, wed sit outside on curbs, and drink strong beer out of moist paper bags. While loud fast music, played upstairs that sparked an angry fear in others- where I was from. Outside that old dance hall on Larchmont, before they turned that street, into what my neighborhood is sadly destined to become; is where I got the scar. cigarette to my wrist, a split second, wince, smell of flesh and burning hair. Was pretty scarred up back then; most are long gone. The remaining few I wear like armor, like that circle shaped scar- below the pulse, got when I needed, somewhere to belong.
Posted on: Mon, 10 Nov 2014 17:31:23 +0000
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