Listening to the Oldies Station on a Saturday Afternoon
In my early teens,
I thought rock & roll
was God’s own message of love,
no sacrifice of guitar fingers
piano feet, or drum ears.
Radio stations were far off from where I grew up,
but I listened until the watts they turned off
faded the music, and it was time for bed anyway.
And now they call me baby boomer
and because there are so many of us,
some radio stations devote all their airwaves
to our own class of rock & roll,
which is now classic, you see,
and they sell us all the things we need
to keep us young,
but I don’t need those things.
I have a new sound that moves me
through the music that blinds the young
and confounds the old. Let’s just say,
“well, that was good—let’s listen again
like we did last summer.”
Linda's Literary Home 