String of Memory

By Renee Lishka

They pluck and riff

Strings echo

Childhood games merge with legends

Of rock

Lennon and McCartney

Let me not forget the coming of the sun

Nor the riff of love being,

“Here, there and everywhere,”

Finger-pointing songs

From a ‘tambourine’ poet

He seduces my mind with ideas.

Ideas too complicated to understand.

Melody and harmony and acoustic strings

What could all these songs mean?

Time is changing, the music changes me

As they sit in a circle

They pluck their songs

I play with dolls

While they sing

This doesn’t sound like prison blues

Though it’s made up of ‘cash’

My dolls dance and I play

The blues doesn’t get to me

They tap their feet

They pluck and sing

A song by a man in black named Johnny

Guitar ballads

Rock and roll songs

Invasion of Britain

Confined into a memory of one

My dad, my uncles

Playing like they’re on stage

A stage in my living room

A stage in my childhood

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