Ace of Spades

Friday. Summer. Seattle.

Listening to old songs on YouTube.

Right now it's Jefferson Airplane:

Comin' Back To Me

Sitting here in the late afternoon,

my dog out back after eating a bowl of kibble

with his egg cracked over the top

-spoiled rotten

but he should be

-half glass of vodka gone

the music pours through

sad and without aim

but sad across the heart

thinking about my mother in the ground

my old man in the ground

my Border Collie angel dog in the ground

-pushing 44 behind this machine

the word disease found me as a boy

and led me through some dark shit

of years to come out on this side

but the words never left

they became stronger

and faster,

better, more brutal,

whether in beauty or in damage,

in stories or poems or novels.

The song ends and I sit here now

well-off

clean

in silence

except the window fan humming

-my thoughts on the words

-all the fears I had of not making it

or making it

blown to bits

like I hoped they would be

-like the words knew they

would be.

Pause. Minimize file. Search for Motörhead

Ace of Spades

click play

raise the glass

feel the metal

lean into the keys.

Nothing good needs to change.