still here

i sit and stare
out the window.
where did the day go.
the years.
how could I be this old
so quickly.
where is the summer
of my
youth. my long hair,
my skin and bones
physique.
where is the girl
next door,
the meal on the table.
my mother
with a pitcher of cold
ice tea,
waiting for me
to come to the table,
to pour.
where are the Saturday
nights.
the stars,
the buddies, the girl friends.
the movies,
the park where we would
drink.
where is the long
months between school
ending
and starting again.
our blue jeans,
our white t shirts,
our grins. our bats
and gloves, baseballs.
the leather football
ready to spin through
the blue sky.
where is the red car,
the Chevrolet, washed
and waxed ready for Saturday
night.
where's the after shave,
the brylcreme,
the black comb in my
back pocket.
where is the night is young,
and so are we.
the radio on. songs that
we knew all the words too.
where is our innocence.
our optimism and joy
about what's to come.