No more days of Schwinn Flyers, top-heavy with waxed dailies, free-lock folded, crackling down wet, 4:30-a.m. blacktop – neighborhood heroes’ hands, chaffed, cut and blackened, gripping the bars.
No more years of apprenticeship focused on: a cheeseburger, malt and jukebox tune, flaunted in a single diner trip, or bold days decked out in satin shirts, two-tone patent leather shoes with taps all around, pink, suede, super-thin belts, and a strut.
And, no more keen, proud, serious men growing inside sleepy-eyed boys, eating yesterday’s donuts with coffee.
No more years of apprenticeship focused on: a cheeseburger, malt and jukebox tune, flaunted in a single diner trip, or bold days decked out in satin shirts, two-tone patent leather shoes with taps all around, pink, suede, super-thin belts, and a strut.
And, no more keen, proud, serious men growing inside sleepy-eyed boys, eating yesterday’s donuts with coffee.