Nostalgia for Dummies

White Impala parked on a side street,
blue Chevy Malibu at a drive-in theater –
the images are as useless as
a box of condoms to a dead man.
But here they come
out of the sheer endlessness of the past,
meet up with me in this cage
I call the present.
Sure, I’m driving, but I’m not cruising.
I’m headed some place
and I miss the joy of going nowhere.
Maybe I’ll run into someone who was there.
But two are just as useless as one
when it comes to nostalgia.
I know that routine.
We laugh at the whole idea of bell-bottoms.
And chortle over splashing on cologne
in anticipation of that first big date.
And we can’t get enough of the image
in our heads of strumming a sister’s
tennis racket like it’s a guitar.
And then we part guffawing
like braying donkeys
until we get out of sight of each other.
That’s when we cry.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, California Quarterly and Lost Pilots. His latest books, Between Two Fires, Covert and  Memory Outside The Head are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in the Seventh Quarry, La Presa and Doubly Mad.