By J.J. Tindall
MIRAGES OF MATCHSTICK MEN
Like the winged seeds
Of the maple tree whirling
Down unto a suburban
Cul-de-sac
In early autumn, riffs
And licks from my songs
Of innocence
Clutter my mind
Upon revisiting. Like
The vaguely Scottish
Swirl (like electric bag-pipes)
Of the opening phrase of
“Pictures of Matchstick Men”
By the Status Quo
Digging into my inner ear,
Getting stuck there,
Conjuring a kaleidoscope
Of mirages and memories.
There, beneath the blue
Suburban skies:
Winged seeds dot the cul-de-sac,
Electric chimes float
From the nearby church,
Fireflies flash
In the purple dusk.
Maple, lilac, birch,
Willow; fresh-mowed
Grass, evergreens,
Tulips, roses.
The twirl
Of a vinyl 45 rpm
Record, the adapter
For the large hole
To accommodate the
Thin phonograph spindle,
The label of
The Cadet Concept
Music Corporation.
Transported by the
Song – and sound effects
I would later recognize
As wah-wah, flange,
Echo and phasing –
From experience
Back to innocence.
In the music,
An encapsulation
Of the time for a
Seven-year-old, now mirages
Of comfort,
Safety,
Freedom
And joy.
This is “Matchstick Men”
By the Status Quo
But a similar warmth
Is conjured too
By the Lemon Pipers,
The American Breed,
The Strawberry Alarm Clock
And the Seeds.
Whirling miracles
Of space and time,
Evidence of the fact
Of a cherished past.
I hear that Scottish riff,
I see the winged seeds,
Like single paisley
Swirls pirouetting
Through the breeze, or two seeds
Enjoined,
Wings above,
The image – the mirage –
Of a perfect
Broken heart.
I see a child,
Leaning by the phonograph,
Musing out the window,
There,
Beneath the blue
Suburban skies:
The song ends,
And I see him play it
Again.
–
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 September 23, 2014