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by Arlie Dennitt i remember the sixties, in the village. no, I really do. how it looked, like an old black and white photo. no, more like it felt like an old black and white photo. a feeling of what . . . ? danger? whatever it was it was always there. not like a bomb about to go off, no, more like . . . excitement, the excitement of anticipation, like anything might happen at any moment you came for the music simple music real music just a guy with a guitar you came for that, but found more. what? well again, i guess it was for the feel of it. expectation filled the streets. you were always waiting for something about to happen. like i'll help you roll that old guy no, he's a friend. you can't handle him by yourself. no, really, it's not like that. okay, it's your funeral. see what I mean? always there ready to happen. admit it, it's why you were there. but now, admit this, can't go back. it's not a place for old men. you had your day, and now that day is gone. so be it. Copyright 2024. All rights reserved.
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