Block Party Band

To the people who shared June 10, 1995 with me.
Loud.
Pounding.
Beat.

Laying the undercurrents
to our gossiping talk.
No. Not gossip.
Simply teenagers,
Enjoying the night.

Laughter's heard
from the door of the Penalty Box.
The ground is hard,
but warm
from the long-gone sun.

Touches
giving comfort,
Reminding us that we
are flesh.

The beat of the music
from the block-party band,
pounds through our bodies
transferred from the ground.

Voices rise
and fall.
Yelling
To be heard,
above the music.

A scream.
We all turn,
searching for our friends.

They are found.
They're safe.

We turn back inward.
Our voices rising
and falling
to be heard,
above the music.

Clasping hands,
Pulling upward,
finding our feet.

A group,
bumping against each other.
Not sexual though,

Friendliness,
Old friends
Walking together.

Disappearing into the night.
The loud
Pounding
Beat
Heard as we walk.