RUSH

No one is left in the house that used to hold seven.

Everything is a lighted stage with a fur coat of dust.

My old bedroom stores a broken pinball machine

three bureaus and two coffee tables stacked back to back.

The last time I was here I didn't have these crows feet or the smile lines

yet the pink walls remember me: my posters, my 3rd place ribbons

and the cork board with a push pin

in the center of the ticket to my first rock concert.

My first Limelight. My first love. I fell in love at that concert, with me.

A girl without a bra or an expectation found her beauty in a song.

Beauty in section two, row two, seat two at 9pm on a school night.

All night green laser beams, the electric guitar and drums cueing the fire

that jettisoned from the tin cans in the sky.

White light shining down on three tornadoes of sound

singing as if the words were written for me.

The blenders of my lungs screaming up for them to take me

because I wanted to go where they were. I wanted to be with them.

I wanted to be them. I wanted to be

up there riding on the riffs of the bass. And it was in a beat

when all the lights came up

when the lead man looked me right down the pinholes of my pupils

that a mirror popped up in front of my nose and I saw myself in a new light.

Even though I was five feet three, I was inflating with a knowingness

ten times my size, expanding with answers to all my questions

free will to my fingertips, mean pride to my toes

leaving no room for the insecurity of a small town nobody. Nobody's Hero.

Now everybody's friend. Anything in the world could be mine.

Hemisphere to Hemisphere I could have it all

for the rest of my rock n' roll life. Life

has a way of leading us to places we never intended to go.

No place I have gone has ever measured up

to the new world which only this ticket gave me an entrance.

My bedroom walls know this secret disappointment.

Everyday for me is the end of a concert.

The seats are empty. The roadies have the stage.

My hearing is foggy and my hair is oily.

Hope is in its' hiding place behind the keys of my teeth

and it's enough to make me silent for the rest of my life

or sing for my death.