Polara
Those notes, the chords, that melody…
It’s Bacharach…
I travel to childhood,
I’ve landed in the back of the “Polara”
I crank down the window…
The sky is bluer than I realized,
I see the familiar heads in the front seat,
Yes they lead the way, Mom, Dad…
Traveling through the sixties with their kids,
I know I’m being sheltered…
I hear the sounds of Vietnam…
Dr. King? Why? Who did that?
Robert Kennedy? He was John’s brother…
“Where we goin ’ Ma?”
“Uncle Al’s for a few days”
“Why Ma? Why can’t we stay home?”
“They say there may be riots”,
“What is riots Ma, what are they?”
“People are unhappy, they want everyone to know.”
“Hey dad, think we can swim in Uncle Al’s pool?”
“Don’t you always Joey?”
“Yeh, guess I do… you mean it’s ok to have fun during the riots?”
“Sure it won’t change things…”
“O K Dad… what do you think will change things…? ”
© Joseph James from 'White Night' (all too familiar, you think?) 1/1 /09
Please read Acts 10:34,35
This poem is personally vital to me. I knew it would get me recognized as a poet. I wrote it after waking in about 4 minutes without any corrections, it was on the wall of Yale University, and in a book with a gifted photographer and Yale professors called May Day 1970. All men are created equal, that comes from God. Follow that for peace and truly love your neighbor...
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