Just a thought....

Cruising ,
and listening to Human League's
'Don't You Want Me, Baby?'
and I just break into a pleasingly,
mischievious smile as I
remember-
Being oh, about 18 , 19,
somewhere's around there
and cruising in Jim's huge woody station wagon,
destination, sometimes, but not always,unknown
drinking Riunite Lambrusco
(yes, I KNOW, no comments, please)
with Jean and Kim and Dave and Jon,
(my best friends through those oh so
important and true character forming
Young Adult years)
and wondering if Jon LIKED me,
or liked me
just a little more,
enough
to ask me out,
(you remember, how it went)
but not worrying about it too, too much,
(because in retrospect, though I couldn't see
It at the time, I knew it would be
ok, if he didn't, guess I was more self assured
than I ever really knew)
and smoking far too many cigarettes
Jim surfing the radio dial
searching for the 'big hit' of the week,
the latest New Wave, Post Punk
offering
that would , upon hearing it's first notes
emanate from the Alpine Sound System speakers
create six people
to break out into oh so wicked happy,
piss poor sing-alongs
and synchronised, unabashed
gyrations
(but we didn't care, how bad the voices, how silly the movements
the music was so good,
the atmosphere, priceless)
Jon and Dave mooning passing cars,
and me and Jean and Kim,
pretending not to notice
(but oh, we did!),
getting home
well past the time,
that the mouse hit the clock, and it
struck one
(and knowing that,plans for the next night,
didn't have to necessarily be 'made,
cause we would all, or in part, get together,
again).
And,
the radio continued, to play
one
after another
(not the Alpine,
but the Ford factory special, with cd player
no cassettes here)
The Go-Go's
Simple Minds
Buggles,
and on
some selections I liked, some I could have
lived,
without hearing
but I
relaxed, didn't do it
(let my sometimes musical snobbery
cloud my
good time, that is)
and I travelled,
backwards and forwards
between 18(or 19, somewhere's thereabouts)and
almost 41,
between 40 and 45 on the speedometer dial,
carefully gyrating,
and singing
myself,
towards
home.
Chrissie 04.09.05