This was written back around age 20. I was introduced to Zeppelin by my ultra cool friend Ashleigh, when she came to my house and played “Heartbreaker” as loud as it would go (until my parents yelled to turn it down) in 6th grade. Since that moment, that song, I’ve never quite been the same. I only wish I could have been there to see them live!
almost twice my age
So good and looking at me with shaded eyes
under hot lights and sweating.
There, in the midst of Zeppelin blues and the crowd,
is the ageless anticipation, the complicated thought of:
Screams from bodies trembling, hear those
soft six string moans,
those microphone inhales and stifled words,
those fevered hands grasping air and
harmonica cries in crescendo
until the volume is unbearable, until consumed.
I don’t remember who I was before.
He doesn’t speak but for songs,
kisses my cheek before I vanish
into the clamped mouth of another world
where my parents would disown
if these ephemeral moments ever came true.
We are so far; I know nothing of him.
We are so close; I see him there
leaning darkly beside the stairs.