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What does it cost a man stuck in the middle of Lost His Way? September 18, 2016

Posted by vsap in Blogroll, Poetry, Uncategorized.
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When I hear Jackson Browne sing “These Days” today

The mournful tone is packed with meaning missing in the seventies.

Rivers of doubt cascade through me and I’m a salmon struggling upstream

with more than sixty years in my ruck sack, it’s a woeful burden.

Who can help a man in the middle of Lost His Way?

A black hat and purple bandana make him walk out of yesterday

but to hear him speak you believe he’s fresh as today.

How much would you give to eavesdrop on what he will say?

When Seattle and Rainier were in my rear view I could sigh deeply.

I was driving an Oldsmobile Alero rental from the Portland airport

And I told the state trooper I couldn’t get back to Chicago too quickly

He was from Wheaton, he understood, but I paid a fine before I could deport.

How does a man get stuck in the middle of Lost His Way?

A blue suede vest and chartreuse shirt make him look like a scene from yesterday

and to hear him speak you believe he’s dusting off today.

What’s it worth to eavesdrop on anything he has to say?

When I heard Neil Young sing “Falling Off The Face Of The Earth”, I was there.

Gravity seemed to be the only thing holding me in place

because an incident occurred between me and a company au pair

so you will totally understand why I had to run just to save face.

What does it cost a man stuck in the middle of Lost His Way?

Faded flare blue jeans with a motorcycle chain belt are all in play

and alligator boots kick more colorful than Oxfords in gray.

How’d you feel about eavesdropping on anything he’d say?

When I saw a pair of high chairs in the kitchen I realized the world had changed.

My wife was seated, and calmly pointed to the bedroom, “They’re all yours.”

I was pretty sure I was in the wrong place, things were rearranged,

but I knew when I sobered up I’d remember where life took its detours.

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