it would be that of pink the sorrow fellows floyd.
rainy afternoon was filled with life stills of black and white photos. of young girls and boys. of high schoolers hamming it up for the lens. and i saw smiles, and feathered bangs, tight sergio valente's and eye twinkling bodies dressed for the prom...
remembering and wondering...a free ride saturday. through plush violins and howling guitars, the promise of college, a future in medicine or playing the alto saxophone... a time when ET crushed me, not a dry eye in the room, long lunchhour played to the b-side of dear sad Low, i never knew he sang gibberish, i know better now...
one girl died at 30. she was a registered nurse
one man beat his wife, molested a 5 year old girl and went on the run
one let his head get too big and got dropped by the nfl
one sits at home wondering and remembering, writing it all down.
and what is making it these days? are you happy with your new plastic face? are you feeling tied down now, those twins weren't all they were cracked up to be? did you lose hope for your place in the fashion world, you should have done your own drawings instead of relying on me... are you raking in the big bucks? have you got a big house? enough space to hide from the loneliness of his working late again. did your spielberg dreams go down in flames? nyu film school only brought on big debt. how are those legs kicking up now? can't you hide the vericose veins. have you started the diet all over again, this time it'll be different...oh yeah.
success is tucking oneself in at night and sleeping safe and sound. looking in the mirror and recognizing a quiet integrity. waking up and moving on.