Flashback Friday

Anyone that knows me on an intimate level or has taken the time to read the archives, is aware that the month of May carries a significant meaning for me in many ways.  Going back to my childhood, it is the honored time when the carnival would appear in the parking lot of the Catholic school I attended.  Apparently it was part of the celebration that occurred annually to celebrate Mary, for whom the school was named.  For me it was the first time I had ever seen a carnival and so I was quite intrigued by these people who had suddenly showed up.  Their trailers lined the field we used for gym and various other outside activities.  Like magic these brightly painted rides and booths appear – the eighth graders are talking about who they are going to take as a date.

May is a time of celebration, as it signifies my initiation into Outlaw Cirkus, the details of which I have never shared with anyone.  While I thought about including it in the First of May article, it remains a very personal experience I do not feel would be understood by outsiders.  Generally I have no qualms about sharing things from my past in a public forum because they happened years ago and just a collection of stories that I like to read from time to time.  Besides, there is nothing I really have to be ashamed of and so whatever people take away or think after reading anything I post here is no skin off my back.  However, I do still bear the scars of that day, and since I had my fill of answering inquisitive questions only to be met with ignorance, the events are not something I freely speak of.

When it comes to the subject of Jon Lovelace, however, I am more than blunt with my words.  Though most of the memories that are attached to May are happy, there is always going to be one that is tainted with tragedy.  Perhaps that sounds more somber than it is meant, as the death of a loved one is certainly not something I want to remember, yet it is difficult to forget.  Jon was much the same way, an incredibly amazing friend I was fortunate to have, who made quite the impression that very first time we met.  In fact, a few weeks after the encounter, I was struck with inspiration and scrapped together a rough poem of sorts.

This bit of writing has traveled with me through all of the times I have moved,  folded, read and re-folded so much that it is worn and faded.  It seems appropriate to immortalize the words here, though admittedly there is not much structure that would really make them an identifiable poem format, and the rhyme scheme is a bit lame.  This was written when I was 18, edited for spelling, and remains as the account of a shy girl who encountered a young man on the streets of New York City in the middle of the night in late December.

Riding the asphalt ocean like a bat out of hell
driving a black Chevy stolen from the devil
living by his own rules; a rebel with a cause
he rolled into the city on a chilly Winter night
throaty pipes roaring down the main drag
blatant disregard for all of the local laws

Hair was bleached by the hot desert sun
blue jeans speckled with red sand
dusty leather jacket clung to his back
he wiped the dirt off his boots with a rag
heels and toes fitted with shiny metal plates
His steel blue eyes connected with mine for a moment
That’s when I knew he was the one

Casual attitude paired with a killer smile
watched him casually walk inside the squat
his aftershave lingering in the air
decided that I would also go in for a while

My presence occupied a corner
girls flocked to him like hungry wolves
not ashamed to display flirtations
tried to entertain as Human Blockhead
but was only met with anger

Went back outside, sitting he curb to brood
a group tumbles out of the squat
fists flying in a drunken fury
the mystery man caught in the middle
shouting words that were crude

Returned my attention to the ground
then I see his shoes in front of me
tattooed hand offered with kindness
wanted to say thanks but couldn’t make a sound

He licked a thumb to wipe something off my face
politely asked me if he could learn my name
Nervously I replied with an unsteady voice
he laughed and said to call him Lovelace

He leaned over and caught me by surprise
our lips met in an awkward kiss
After a few minutes he pulled away
a smile sparkled in those intense eyes

He climbed into his Chevy and drove out of site
but I would always remember our kiss on that Winter night


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