Monday, April 29, 2013

Summer, 1987

                                              Mission Beach, San Diego California June 1987

She'd come to San Diego
                       To get out of the Florida heat
Claimed she didn't like the tan
                       She got on Vero Beach
She tried to work my crossword
                       While I tried to work my line
Thought I was getting in good
                       Before I had a clue what I was getting into


                                                          See her riding that moped
                                                          In a denim skirt
                                                          Hair tied back
                                                          She flipped it when she flirt

                                                  Hoping to see her in the morning
                                                  In my best tee-shirt
                                                  Walking through the alley
                                                  Off Mission near Seagirt

She moved up on Chalcedony
And I became a jerk
Went up to Lancaster 
Looking for steady work


Years have tumbled past
                                    Though it feels like yesterday
When we had a our golden moments
                                    Dancing in a hurricane
Garnet and Everts never stood a chance
                                    As we entertained the neighbors
With our dystopian romance
                                    Those are the days against which




All others are measured

                                     
                                    
                                    
                   






                     
                        




                                                      

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