fiction / Fifties / Poetry / Uncategorized

Like James Dean

Sometimes you can hear the echoes of years

when the wind whistles like a screech owl

on those farm to market roads and highways

that stretch out uninhibited for miles

those boys in cars that beg to hug a road

those daredevil heart breakers

rebels beyond reach

racing for the girls dressed up in summer clothes

hair in pompadours, ducktail coolness

they revved up their motors

pressed metal to the floor

flew past Fenn’s Point,

down Johnson Road

they road that highway of broken dreams

roared down Hwy. 71

breathed thunder into the sky

worshiped leather and loudness

oh yes, leather jacket smug

in their rolled up t-shirts and jeans

breaking speed limits and hearts

until one day

they crashed into the sun


2 thoughts on “Like James Dean

  1. Though this wasn’t my world, I can fully appreciate how sad it must have been, seeing young lives cut short because their desire to be “cool” was greater than their sense of logic. Well captured!

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