what he heard

He misses the music most. There was a life to it, a sense of hope. “Dancin’ in the Streets.” “Good Golly Miss Molly.” “Get Ready.” “Wake Me, Shake Me.” Sometimes silly, always joyous. Lord knows it mostly didn’t come from a place of hope, though it rang like one. And maybe that was what made it feel so good, so vital. That, and how it got to him, across that AM signal from Detroit. It was as though he’d tapped into something, directly into something. From a real place. His parents didn’t get it. How could they? They’d already given up, they’d already resigned. Wasn’t that the way with the adults? Get there and stay there and wait for judgment day, when, finally, things would get better. But that wasn’t for him. He wanted to ride the feelings; he wanted to ride that lifeline. He still does, today, so many years later, but now wonders if it isn’t just time to get somewhere and wait. He desperately needs a song.