Eight tracks and underage,
hard rock for the teenage,
one summer eve, surrounded by kings.

They rolled their tokes,
shared loose smokes,
and bragged, of sweetheart flings.

I watched all night,
as they pal and fight.
Curse, and say foolish things.

Like “Play it again.”
said my uncle to a friend,
as we sat, listening, to those guitar strings.

.