State Diner Rendezvous

 

c. 2020 Rod Ice

All rights reserved

(11-2020)

January, 1979

I had just arrived from Pittsburgh

Barely 17

Scrubbed with Prell and dressed in my leather

A Ramone alone

Pinned and chained

My parents wondered who to blame

They said I shamed

The family name

So I chose a fanciful label

From ‘The Great Rock n Roll Swindle’

Punk Rock down the block

Motorcycle grease

And shredded knees

On my blue jeans

All on display

At Channel 13

I was the kid

Among students from the universities

They could not see

The fear in me

A child running wild

Abandoned and afraid

Waylaid

Wondering over my identity

Who is me?

In the mirror

Who do I see?

I sought their approval

It made me feel full

Ripped and ragged

Cracked and jagged

Zipped up and zoned out for the day

My scars seemed far away

When the Sex Pistols began to play

Then when the show was done

Guru Henry said we needed a diversion

An escape for food and foolishness

Just up the street

We agreed to meet

At the State Diner, long after sunset

The waitstaff was patient

I was drunk and dumb

Indefensibly young

But not too wild for their taste

They took my order

For fried eggs and steak

Henry talked about our broadcast

An upstart episode of video art

Light in the dark

Our post-production spark

Lit the flame

A firestick waved over the bricks

My head was turning

Like Joe Strummer

Shouting ‘London’s Burning’

I chewed my slab of cow

And thought ‘This is now!’

No more getting the shivers

Lost on the three rivers

I had arrived

Fully alive

On an overnight drive

Into the starlight sky

Watched the TV screen from our table

‘Twilight Zone’ rerun

And me acting like a genius bum

Arguing

Faltering

Foolishly falling out of my seat

The act was complete

I called for my waitress

More coffee, please!

There’s too much alcohol

Inside of me

I needed relief

Something more substantial

To make me feel full

Though I behaved like a star

The truth came out in Henry’s car

A Volkswagen with fenders duct-taped in place

I hid my face

And admitted my unworthiness

I failed the test

He did not judge

My mentor urged me to run loose

He knew the path

That I would choose

A kid from the outside

Wounded pride

Record collection was my protection

Those vinyl grooves

Helped to improve

My spirit, too long ignored

I fell on the floor

While the diner crew took my hand

‘Can you stand?’

I was wobbly and wonderstruck

But blessed by luck

Friends pretended to look away

So I lived for another day

Swindle singer, on stage

I turned the page

Toward a new day

Where music mattered

Where my co-hosts

Spun their platters

Grooves rotate

It was our day

If only I could return again

To the diner, with my friends

I’d order breakfast after midnight

One more time

Written on my iPhone SE