***Garage*Band***

Pale green shadows covered walls
   but provided shelter
   from the sunshowers.
One on electric guitar,
   you struck the drums
   as I balanced myself on a board
   that took me nowhere.
All watching one brave soul
   shredding pavement
   through rivers of tar.
You quit your banging racket
   to propose a ritual
   that only I could accept.
"Let's run," you said,
   "to the stop sign and back.
   Who cares if we get soaked?"
Terrified of the possibilites,
   my fear not of the rain
   in which I love to dance,
   but of reaching that sign
   ------alone------
You offered your hand
   for assurance
   and abruptly the guitar wails
   c e a s e d .
"You're not going anywhere,"
   he asserted without
   a single blink.
Glancing from the pooled streets
   to his firm stare,
   I longed to escape
   but hadn't the guts.
I let him dominate my heart
   and reign over my soul,
   but not anymore.
Looking back on that dismal scene,
   I wish I had fled with you,
   away from the chains
   that binded me to his audacity.
Now I know you were sincere.
   If we had run to the stop sign that day
   maybe we'd have kept going,
   and never looked back.

Written on May 20, 1998