Groove

I am the bad guy. I groove temptation.

 

Advice to those of you in my boots:

Are you experienced?

If so, be like fire, be an emotive force.

Prey on the day.

 

Demand that damned pleasure.

 Why?

Because memorized moments of life

hold frozen keys to the future of you.

The past made you what you are now.

It’s time to cultivate those feelings long plowed under.

Bring your dreams to life.

You have feelings buried under years of incremental silt that deserve the beauty of daylight,

let alone the brightness of a welcoming, revelatory smile.

 

You should not judge harshly; you should not judge at all.

Seduce, not over minutes or hours, but over weeks, months if necessary.

 

My blood is the color of a strong improvisational glance.

Match it, I assure you, we’ll soon someday dance.

 

Yours should be of similar hue.

Pray to the god of mega.

Be the god of you.

 

Periodically, I make a coordinated effort to resurface through the ice of frozen tides.

I do not break the ice.

I melt the ice.

I breathe tonal fogs and dream of feathercats to feed my inspiration.

 

Our generation, despite rumors to the contrary, is not lost.

We segue into newer kisses.

We touch, figure, adapt, initiate, explore and

We can be slippery and be seen while being the scene.

We rock.

 

We can go underground and dance with dozens, then alone.

Then walk away.

 

I have hazy, hazy motives and project cool, convincing glances.

A hip nature comes to mind.

Sometimes it’s time to be the savior doctor,

sometimes it’s time to recklessly accelerate with determination.

Sometimes it’s time to listen to you

whisper and breathe

and imagine you four seasons into the future.

 

I refer to old chart pages of Rolling Stone for nostalgia.

I burn memories like others burn dinner.

I establish myself today, I live for tomorrow.

I get serious about not getting serious.

 

Are you experienced?

 

- PK. Long time ago.