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The mystery of my childhood
Sitting here in the back of the car
I looked up, and I saw
the two, shiny buttons which
brought me back on the bumpy road
ten years ago.
Like a cockroach the car
Ostentatiously was climbing through
The tortuous path.
In there the red velvet jacket
Was separating my shoulders,
And my hair which was like
A cascading waterfall.
The cracked lips were moving,
And vacillating notes were coming out,
Racing the engine’s sound.
My father’s terse answers
Made me sing even more.
Everyone found the songs exuberant,
Everyone, but me.
I was the radio, but
He didn’t tell the truth.
They all didn’t tell the truth
Because they didn’t know it either-
The mystery of the gray buttons,
The mystery of my childhood.
