Stop Here On Red

Streetlight, House, Streetlight, House, Streetlight, House

The car blows through the dull Friday night air in zero gravity.

We try so hard to find an identity in our community
indulging in endless confrontations with apathy and hedonism,
retracing our adolescent footsteps
looking for the carelessness and joy that we left behind

The 1998 Toyota Corolla with manual locking doors is our spaceship now

The glory of a first skateboard is the gift of speed,
the gift of flight
Oh Go Get High
Even with our growth
We will never touch the sky like we did
in those days

The radio system bumps sound waves that trek through the stars

The commotion is a combination of all my childhood dreams
the volume is a steep contrast to the silent backdrop of suburban nightlife
The bass drum bounces like a pinball
the treble tone sends us toward the moon
and I start to remember my thoughts as a kid:

summertime, the surreality of cartoons, being able to fly

We used to ask questions that accelerated our dreams
Now, we settle for materials and images
Images of others; Images of Ourselves
all to satisfy our intimidation by improbability
The idea of growing up is so superficial

What if?

We dress old school; aerodynamically
Vans laced to the top like a Z-Boy
Hi Top Adidas with no laces like Run DMC
They cannot touch us tonight
because the sky is our playground
there are no limits to our dreams

The sign reads "Stop Here on Red"

So lets dance
while our blood is still red with passion and excitement
like we were children
just at this light
until it turns green with envy
at how much fun we shouldn't be having at our ages

We are heroes of definition