time of the season

your friend from highschool,
let's call him jimmy for now
still owes you eleven dollars
from the time you went to
that concert at the community
college. you remember
the day in detail, the army
green dodge dart swinger
you were driving. how you
stopped at the jack in the box
to get food for the drive there.
stitching a p o w patch onto
your jeans before you left
the house, not answering
your mother when she said,
where are you going, i need
the car to go to work
in an hour. hey, i'm talking to you.
johnny winter's brother
edgar was playing. he too
had the stark white skin
and platinum blonde hair.
the music was mindless,
or maybe it was just you, the weed,
the beer, the attitude and
the time of the season. but you
remember clearly jimmy
borrowing exactly eleven
dollars from you for some reason.
it was right before you held
up a bic lighter to encourage
another encore from edgar winter,
and now, forty years later,
you can't even find him on facebook
to get it back.