New Prose Poem

Three Chords and the Truth

I used to dance alone in an empty room. Just me and three chords and the truth. Songs I sang at seventeen. When all I wanted was to run away. Dance with a stranger. Lose my name. Shed my skin. Jump in the river.

I tried it once. Hitch-hiked southbound. Down 65. Across the Ohio River. Across the Kennedy Bridge. We stopped at King’s Record Shop. Found Elvis sitting in the corner strumming a guitar. Johnny Cash behind the counter. Dylan smoking in the doorway. Cohen rambling about some girl in the Chelsea Hotel. I bought a copy of “Double Fantasy,” and wandered off down Fourth Street.

I made it down to the water tower. Down on River Road. There was reggae, blues and barbeque. Then the sun went down and it was time to go home. Across the Kennedy Bridge. Across the Ohio River. The same river, but never the same river twice. The River City in my rearview at last. I returned home to find that nothing changed. I have discovered that nothing is lost. That everything that was, is, and ever will be.