A Huntington Beach Memory
by Michael Doyle

The sand in my shoes
Holds a Midas shadow
Over time passages and windows
Of all these memories and blues

My eyes rise to the timeless skies
When certain songs on the radio play
This, then, is no real disguise
For the coming of the ending of our days

Al Stewart was always present on my mind
Like an old song that never gets left behind
Arpeggiated into their own crescendo
My daydreams play into their continuing echo

Straightened as it were on the wheels of confusion
I wonder about how much of our certainty
Will turn out to be simply a passing illusion
And how much of this is accurate in its history

Do you remember driving down Highway One
Our jams were blasting out as another day was done
About those girls, did we ever truly regret
Or lose the verses to songs we'd forget

The songs that we'd make up and played
As we lived out that sunshine charade
That we'd one day make the radio charts
Closer to the heart, we held our arts

We'd brought our clinker guitars to play
Out on the sands at the end of that day
It turned out we didn't have a lot to say
And then the girls? Well, they got away..

(c) March 5, 2024  Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved