and disgustingly unique
coffee table,
back in college.
Boasting many coats of primary green paint.
Sitting lower to the ground,
Where Feet rest atop and legs stretch below.
Painted on the surface are tiny sperm,
shooting out from the corners toward the center
where a single egg waits,
anticipating a winner.
The Sperm table.
On top of it sat a large ash tray
along with a stack of indivdual ashtrays.
Because we all smoked.
Marlboro Lights
Camel Lights
Camel Reds
No one smoked Parliaments.
Rolling Rock bottles.
The Boogie Nights Soundtrack playing in the CD Player:
"whoa, whoa,
You got the Best of My Love"
Justin's painting of a woman hangs on the wall,
watching us.
Sort of like a Goddess.
Who has since retired up in Washington Heights.
The chance that
we have just gotten high
out of a bong
Is 100% probable.
I can see out of the patio door.
I'm sure it is snowing.
On the drive home from "Gay Manor,"
Doug and I opt to take the back route
down Oak Grove:
"Oak Grove."
Say it again.
"Oak Grove."
laughter.
Say it again.
"Oak Grove."
Light another cigarette,
Radio barely audible.
The sound of a senior citizen enjoying his AM transmissions.
or a paper due?
but, I suggest we stop at the Amoco and get some beer.
Courtesy of the Petrillo Family gas card.
(sorry mom)
Yum! Funyons too.
Doug will pass on those.
But he'll take a Mountain Dew.
And another pack of Marlboro Lights
I owe him this,
because I've smoked all of his.
Again.
I can taste it.
Elm Street
Campbell
Battlefield Road
Sunshine
Glenstone
Catalpa...obscure.
Fine, National.
Mexican Villa is a blur in passing.
We arrive on Walnut Street.
The Big House
top floor
mid century modern furniture
and an orange ottoman.
The night continues.
We light another cigarette,
like it's our first
of the night.
I'm there.
It's 1999.
These memories make
My stomach feel empty.
and
I can't decipher if
I'm overjoyed
or in complete
and
utter dismay.
Because,
I am not There.
and
I will never be there again.
Not like this.
A college town
Continues pulsing
Continues breathing
Continues regenerating
without you
or your friends
or your history
like it
never
even
needed you.
The sperm table.
I wonder where the hell it ended up?
2 comments:
Even though I never went to SMS, you just completely described my college career (part I anyway). Oh Trace, This is the "Glory Days" of our time!
thanks for that walk down memory lane even though I was long gone by '99. college::::: best. time. ever.
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