Age And Delusion

,Books rest akin to athletes who have run their races. Frank rubbed his palms and fingers across pages, gone yellow, marked in time. Frank waiting to die, his music, the lingo of his generation dissolves in a fine funnels of mists. Buildings, gray markers the granite cracks, are the only things anchored in time. They will last longer than Frank. Frank finds himself staring, eyes parked on various items knowing they'll outlast him. They'll be in the air, feel the heat from the sun the cold of winter. A body bundled, hanging in a doorway swing in silhouette. Frank was drawn to it. The beer bottle rolled from the palm of Franks's hand. Sitting there he recalled the first time he popped his cherry at 16 with Janna. . . . The lights came up and Frank stumbled to the street. The beer joint a half a block up the street was bathed in yellow light. Frank found himself very thirsty.

1Hit Wonders

They took the stage, aged "One Hit Wonders," their skin happy to be under stage lights again. The band, singers no set order. I'm producing the show. It's playing in my head. You could hear Cliff Knoble and "The Horse" to "Where A Flower In Your Hair" Scott Mackenzie. Artifacts like tattered bits of paper and cloth. Reproductions of long gone buildings on Sunset Blvd. rebuilt in my head. Transparent somehow so real my fingertips can dance over the granite blocks at Sunset and Hollywood Boulevard. No 1-800 number and $9.95 needed. Sit back, check the road and listen to the one hit wonders in my head.