A Lost Summer Vignette
By The Grooveblaster
3 a.m. memorial day – look out, here comes another summer, with its promises of sunshine, shakes, parades, fireworks and the carry over fun with a newly found spring time girl – the café meetings, the cosmopolitan air, late night phone calls, dance club grooves, love, love, love –
out she comes with the short orange dresses, solar yellow shoes and her hair – the perfect flip – one morning turns into another and another – your feet are no longer on the ground, a hypnotic double dipping into your past and fuck it up future – you didn’t even know her, now you can’t even blink twice without her, don’t say that –
listen to the beat, listen to the beat, at a diner, pulled up skirt, bare leg – touch it -her seductively slightly upturned corner of the mouth smile – biting her lower lip, deep breaths moving her breasts up and down against your chest, her hair falls down on you, blissed out of your mind, ready to kiss everything about her
in the early morning hours, kicking in the lake pavilion door, she jumps up on a table, leans back – she’s all love, love, love, now, now, now, yes, yes, yes, don’t let a second be wasted, slow down that beat, slow down that beat, don’t let it go, don’t let it go, but, just like that –
pooooof!……….the smoldering oppression of august arrives, turns the mood to a bitter paranoia aftertaste, the recalled memories and scents from the past are making you see things that aren’t there, the summer swerves, twists and shapeshifts like a greek goddess – focus now, focus, it’s turning into a mess
she’s been wearing more earth tones, you’ve been wearing shades, she doesn’t eat anymore, pencil thin, you don’t sleep – what’s she thinking, who is she with, why no answer, who, what, why, where, when – here comes that locomotive again
the look in her eyes has changed, there’s a hate that comes from somewhere else, starry-eyed contempt, a straight up clearance sale blowout weekend – spraying out that anger, her kisses turn into slaps, her caresses into wild punches and thrown beer bottles
she copes, she has her sleeping pills and wine and everything will be fine – you have your no-doz and driving without headlights – bulldozing into the fading pulse of night, waiting for the big crash
you will never be fine again, chill the beat down to a freeze, it’s past the season for wearing white – she was gone way before she never said goodbye – this is nowhere, and the beat goes on – faded I love you’s – 3 a.m. labor day – isn’t it good to know winter is coming?