simulated memories

art, Inspiration, poetry, writing 11 comments

My imaginations fabrications take to me to a fairytale land in a parallel space

Only my deep inner adolescence could give the come-on to such a wonderful place

Post World War II, middle-class families chugging along in their oversized Buick cars

Wailing sounds of brass horns, from the swing-jazz riffs, pouring out from the bars

My Grandpa taking my hand, while reciting every word to “Has anyone seen my gal?”

Without missing a beat he encourages me “why don’t you pick up that nickel Pal?”

“We can head on down to the corner store and you can get yourself some Bazooka gum”

Loved that guy, as we hit the streets together our adventures were far from humdrum

Presently in my delusion, made our way to a happening basement bunker at 222 Bowery

Exchanging bullshit lines were Ginsberg, Burroughs, Kerouac and Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Lucid smells of cheap vodka and a skunky odor, my Paw while smiling said to ignore

I’m not sure why they said they were so high? Clearly, we were still on the ground floor

Paw and I said our farewells as they were about to depart on a bus en route to insanity

Every square inch was painted with ‘FURTHER’ on the front, driven by a Neal Cassady

We waved and shouted “hope to see y’all soon, and make sure you don’t forget to write”

Just like that, in the drop of Wavy Gravy’s hat, they sailed off into the night.

©2018 Joseph Emerson http://www.whatsinsideamadmanshat.com

This piece greatly inspired by conversations with http://www.lesleykluchin.wordpress.com Thank you for always being so supportive. 🤓

11 comments

  1. Wow! You are on a roll! I don’t know how you do it. This could have described my childhood right down to the Buick. Erie that there are so many parallels. My grandfather would stop by and take me by the hand and walk with me down to the corner store while singing songs too. And he’d always get me Bazooka gum.
    Clearly you DO time travel , or go back in dream time to the mid 1950’s. You brought back sweet memories of my Grandfather who died when I was only in 3rd grade. I so looked forward to that knock on the door and his warm smile when he saw me. In a thick Yiddish accent he’d pick me up and sing”whose the prettiest girl in town? It’s Lesley! “
    Thanks for the trip down memory lane, this one has me weeping. Somehow you connect with my past in the most vivid ways. And that Buick was one huge automobile. Great post! You are killing it this week! Stay out of my head!!!!! 🙀

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      1. That’s funny. Some great songs from the era. My grandfather was a tailor and could take a plain piece of wool and artistically turn it into a masterpiece. He was also so far to the left politically it would make your head spin. What a character! He’d stand on a soap box and preach for progressive change. Wish he had lived longer so that I could have gotten to know him better as I grew up. He too was a rebel. I would have had a kindred spirit around had he lived. (I was the odd one out in my family once my grandpa died). Your piece momentarily gave me some childhood memories that reminded me of a very sweet man. Thank you so much . In my head I’m hearing the song “Dream” by the Everly Brothers. BTW I saw those guys many times in the 60’s …beautiful voices.

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      2. Very cool. My grandpa was a slicked back black haired poker player and worked in a printing press. Played to the beat of his own heart. We got into some silly trouble, and we obviously had to keep it from my parents and oh boy when my mom would find out or hear what we were up to. Forget it haha. I learned some neat stuff from him. My imagination gives credit to him as well. Our own world, it was magnificent.

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      3. Awwww….How nice that you can draw upon those rich experiences and not only recall them with smiles and love, but bring them into your writing. Your grandpa would be proud if you. He sounds like he was a very cool guy.

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