(Untitled Poem)*

James McMurtry on the radio 

sings about “cashing in on a thirty-year crush...

You can’t be young and do that.”**

Two weeks ago at Black Mountain where people go to cool off 

it was so damn hot I could barely ride a bicycle.

I looked for things I could eat without using a stove.

Three months ago the sky was bright at this hour.   

Every night the colors were different.  

Now it's dark as midnight in December 

and the stars are thick enough to make a cloud.

Leaves are falling and it's far to cold to swim.

Thirty years ago seems like barely yesterday

but in a different country.

You can’t be young and think that.

Time stretches out like an accordion, 

like that story your cousin has told so many times that you can’t stand waiting for him to finish. 

But time slams shut like a wall coming up fast in the windshield.  

You didn’t see it while fiddling with your radio. 

Notes

*If you're viewing this on a phone, the spacing is probably off. It's set for a laptop, sorry.

**Listen to the song here, th a better use of your time than reading the poem. Maybe read this too? 

This is part of a thread to share poems or poetry-adjacent writing, as discussed here.)