Strange as it is, woke up with this really strong longing for days back in Washington State, circa 1979 or so. Dirt bikes, goose-down jackets and torn up Wranglers, long tangled hair, BB guns and comic book collections and parents either stoned or straight behind the wheels of their Hondas and Datsuns. John Lord's brother out in the swamps, shooting up ducks with his Sear's-bought over and under and leaving hard plastic shells for us all to collect the next day. Arby's and the view from the school roof and old truckstop motels and new malls and Pizza and Pipes and catching raw snakes in our soft teenage hands. Scary movies at the Crossroad Cinema. One day back, this morning I probably would have given anything. I woke up with the taste of it in my mouth. I woke up and I could smell it, could feel the cool wall above my bed. Kiss posters and Casablanca posters and clothes thrown in the corner. Could look out the living room window and see the sun glinting off the side of Mt. Rainier as Mom makes her way made her way back from nursing school down at B.C.C. and dad stirred the spit-pea soup over the electric stove and the TV news nattered on. That world before the next one, and the next one so many worlds before now.