Two years
and you fall in love
with the first band you see
Life has a way of reminding you
Like the woman walking into frame
The first woman I'd crushed on
at 16 years old
First real indie girl
I ever did see
Gone
the mascara, eyeliner and
dyed black bob
Now just everyday people
who've brushed off
our dreams
Seeing her
I figured out
why old bands keep going
when they're greying and bald
putting on weight
The way in which we feel
stays the same
Came to me
as a miniature bass drum thump
when she and I
locked eyes for just a second
No such thing as
being old enough to know better
when flickering embers
remember
What it was like to be 16
What it was like to dream.
Scott Cumming unsuspectingly went to see Garden State wearing his Shins tee. He has been published at The Daily Drunk, Punk Noir Magazine, Versification, and Shotgun Honey. His poem, “Blood on Snow”, was voted the best of Outcast Press Poetry Things We Carry issue and his debut poetry chapbook is due for release in December. Twitter: @tummidge Website: scottcummingwriter.wordpress.com