I drove down the 101 South this afternoon, got off the Cahuenga exit and crept through Hollywood. When Bob Marley came on, I was transported, as I nearly always am, to another life nearly thirty years ago. I was going to write it, the memory, the music, the sway, a porch, was it the beginning of spring, another college year? Tonight, bourbon in my throat, I searched for the words and typed a bit, knew it had come before and found this:
Wednesday, July 13, 2011Acupuncture Dream
On the way over, I knew already what I was going to think about when the needles were in, the door was shut and the music was on. I knew that I was going to go back to you, to a house on the side of a road, a wooden porch, a Carolina dusk of sticky left off soft, a folding chair with rusty legs, your worn khakis and the reggae sway as I pulled into the driveway. I knew I'd think of it as I drifted off, my channels open, your guitar put down as I leaped into your lap, my head thrown back where you kissed my neck, your wide smile, tilting.