|
|
STEREO SESSIONS
Each morning I dressed for prison,
Applying copious layers of secrecy,
Spraying fear liberally on my tender skin,
Strapping on a filthy belt of isolation,
wrapping a coat of introversion around me,
Before catching the bus to daily grief.
I learned to zone out slamming lockers and make-out sessions,
Blocked out the stair wells screeching with sexual exploits,
Trimmed out the white noise of teachers droning about quadratic equations,
Drowned it all in mind music played on my mental stereo.
I'd amass all my music at night,
My room a high decibel escape from those caged moments,
Emancipated by the steady rhythm,
Safe from scrutiny in the refrains of songs,
And I yearned to remain locked in step with that soothing sound symphony,
Dreaded mornings when life severed me from the stereo sweetness,
Reintroducing the realism of my daily trek through fear.
I couldn't find any answers in those confining corridors,
But reveled in replaying "Constant Craving" twenty times,
Serenading secret crushes through the chords of
"Waiting for a Girl Like You",
Defying my endurance for volume with "Here I Go Again on My Own",
All of it thunderous freedom and magic,
Lifting me high above all that isolation to a place I could call mine,
A place where I could dream,
A realm without bars of secrecy stifling my words.
Even now with those fear-permeated days just bad dreams,
I retain the need for stereo sessions,
Still turn up the rhythm sometimes at night,
Glide free on the pulse of guitar chords,
Attached to another reality for as long as I choose,
And in the rush of melody's climax,
I reach out my hands and dance with freedom.
- Leah Gardner