By J.J. Tindall
EDDIE AT BONNAROO
Eddie cleanses
His soul with
The youth he brings
And the youth he finds.
He’s at Bonnaroo
(The youth he is)
With his daughter’s crew
And I marvel.
I can
Hardly imagine
A festival rock show
With my dad.
Anymore?
I can hardly imagine
A rock festival
At all.
Been there,
Done that
(In the popular parlance).
It’s not bitterness.
It’s satiation
And respect.
I struck
While the iron
Was hot
With white light
And white heat.
This time
I stayed in town
To work
Knowing I would miss
My favorite work bro.
He had
A deep, solid groove
To attend to,
Bringing his youth
And finding his youth,
And I’m hip
To that.
I’m glad
My dad
Wasn’t there
For Zep
At the Stadium in ’77
Or the Stones
At Soldier Field in ’78.
If he would have been
Up for it
That might
Have been different.
He was hip
Unto himself
And unto
His time.
Rightfully:
Not up
For Zep.
Any more than I
Would have been up
For George Shearing
At Trenier’s
Back then.
Now?
That’s where I’d be
In a New York Minute
(In the popular parlance):
Grooving to George
Shearing at Milt Trenier’s
With my dad,
Admitting it wasn’t
Until I read Kerouac’s
“The Subterraneans”
That I understood
About George.
Not forcing myself
To a festival,
Not re-living
My youth
But celebrating
The soul
I put into it,
And was allowed
To put into it,
Was taught
To put into it.
With the youth I brought
And the youth
I found
I got me
Some satisfaction.
–
J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
–
More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on June 18, 2014