San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly

Joe Gardner

Troubadour
 
I like the feel of night time grass
brushing beneath my feet
sneaking between my toes…
            We reminded each other of Hollywood 1989
At the Troubadour
underage
I swung on the lead singer
            I was lucky to get out alive
I never had felt so alive
as I did on the ride back
in the back
of Pat’s pickup
                        You snuggled close to me
                        I spread my leather like a blanket
                        over us
As we hurtled back to Lakewood