Jason Robinson. “Lion´s Den.”

Remember the packs of flannels

In parade through the halls

The bravado

The savannah of finding

Ourselves

You remember the neon

The night´s fluorescent anger

I see it all in a blur

I recall the moon

The moon?

No, please Remember heads popping out of windows

Looking for other prides

Looking for fights

You remember the gurgle of engines

Idle horsepower side by side

Remember cruising the strip

Remember the red and blue solo cups

Remember beer spilling everywhere

You remember the tradition of boys becoming men

Remember the word of a birthday

A zephyr spreading through the savannah

Remember how it carried the fierce edge of that monsoon

How it sucked the air from our lungs, thoughts from our consciousness

Remember the gathering force, the entire food chain preparing to feast and run

For cover in the downpour to come, ready to forge flash floods

Remember how the roar and howl rumbled in our ears, “let’s get laid…”

Yes, yes I remember the moon and you          

                                                                        Trying to find comfort

The hunters becoming the hunted

Hiding in the middle of the heard

You remember J.K.’s birthday

Remember the den of Terry’s bedroom

A dozen of us packed in, restless and smelly

Remember cans of Copenhagen and spit

The acrid jolt of nicotine in our lips

Remember “studying” the Ems dispatch

The failures of communication that brought on world war one

Remember the parents leaving us to our own devices

Remember the vices…boys will be boys

You remember the snuff spit dangling from our lips

Long chrysalises of brown flecks

You remember not talking about the next day and what was to come

J.K. already green and queasy

You remember his running to the toilet and the gangly banter

“Dude…”

“Dude!” building tenors in bellows down the hall

‘I think he puked.”

“He definitely puked.”

“You suck.”

“You swallow.”

Yes, yes I remember

The loneliness of the crowd

Yes, yes I remember

The sting of words that didn’t matter

Yes, yes I remember

The dread of shedding what we knew

You remember scraping the windshields, freeing the frost

That slid lighter than ash down in puffs

Remember staring into the road before us

Remember how the engine of youth spat us out into dawn

The exhaust in the air like fog over the empty acres in front of us

Racing over the crystal frosted pavement

Remember them melting under our force, our caravan of tires to the end

Where the asphalt crumbled in sheets of smaller and smaller pieces

Gone completely like the old ideas of ourselves the dirt

Lifted from beneath our spinning wheels

Remember bouncing over the deep grooves from summer’s run-off

The jerk of the steering wheel lose on its column, too much give

You remember almost hitting boulders in the road

Our heads crushed against the rooves

Remember our landing in the meadow by the lake, the clearing

Remember the forest’s constant consumption of itself

 

Yes, yes I remember

Our journey into nature

Yes, yes I remember

Its embrace

The scent of earth on our breath

Within us

And you remember the love lost, the dread of real intimacy

You remember your crush since 6^th grade getting doused with beer

Her eyes, how they cast a lasso around your world

Pulled you in, how she was still groggy and drunk from morning

Remember the push of her chest against you, “I can’t smell like beer for class.”

Remember catching her from almost falling on the floor of fallen pine needles

Remember taking her home

Trying to be polite as she changed her shirt in front of you

Remember wondering was she flirting, “we should stay here.”

Remember not wanting something to happen when she was drunk

Remember the lead pull of obligation

The yank back to the ritual

Remember the flight away from real intimacy or its possibility

Yes, yes I remember

Something lost forever

Yes, yes I remember

Wanting to stay

Yes, yes I remember

The tenderness of desire

And the regret

You remember the surly pride, your own adolescence

The bed-splattered manes of classmates weaving between

Big rigs littered like sunlight in the parking lot

Remember the gates of the brothel, wrought-iron

The chime of the call button that ushered you all in

Remember the cavern of worn carpet and barstools

The line up of women and their poses, legs out, bent knees, heels up

Remember their toes tickled the floor, the lingerie

Remember JK pointing and the woman with Farrah Fawcett hair

Her hand on his chest and the way she pulled him through the maze of halls

Remember the business as usual withdrawal of women back to their places at the bar

The next call of the buzzer, the next line up, every other minute

Remember the women lining up, the pointing

You remember JK’s crooked steps back through the hall

Remember the exhaustion of it all

Yes, yes I remember

The urge to run

Yes, yes I remember

The sadness

Yes, yes I remember

Hoping it all would end

You remember the blur of the road home

The echo of voices and songs and air through the windows

You remember the stench of beer and brothel back in class

The quiz and the question on the Ems dispatch

You remember JK handing in the test and discreetly barfing in his book bag

The teacher droning on about the archduke, spittle drying on his lips, oblivious

Remember you crush asleep, head in the crook of her arm

Terry leaning to your ear, “That whore JK bagged looked just like Angie’s mom…

You’re next.”

Yes, yes I remember

Knowing she wasn’t Angie’s mom

Yes, yes, I remember wondering

Was she someone’s mom?

Yes, yes, I remember

All of them were people

We never knew