When I think of Van Morrison,
I think of college, Greenville Illinois, road trips, river towns, the Mississippi, Alton, pool halls and greasy burgers and American French fries, cassette tapes.
When I think of Van Morrison,
I think of moon dances and slow dances, living rooms and us, early evening late night telephone voices, your voice and my voice, texts and emails and nothing, the greatest love we never really had that became the greatest loss we ever really felt.
Van Morrison, alcohol and song, immigrants, “Oh Me Oh My”, Dirty America and Sal Paradise.
When I think of Van Morrison, I think of her and you and him.
John Robinson and Matt Miller, 2nd Janssen, Scott Field, notes taped to the TV announcing grand escapes from the future. Alton. Isaac Federiuk. Back to you… Never mind.
Rudy and barbeque grills, jugs of wine, old times, horseshoes in the backyard the Beach Boys Party… I remember the road, Alton, and I smell the water, too. Van Morrison didn’t go to church and I don’t either now.
Falling down, face scarred, check mate ol’ boy, check mate, goddam what a day!, what a night!, what a month!, what a year!, what a decade...
Van Morrison and my thoughts, alone and buzzed, shadows, white rum and YouTube, will you call me just one last time?
Never mind.
High in a parked car in the black parking lot the cops bust a house behind us we sit quiet and listen to old jazz and blues I hear your heart you hear mine and home tugs on the sun to rise and silence the eternal noise forming between our bodies and mixing our souls.
Van Morrison… If I don’t listen to Van Morrison, I don’t think of you.
But when the FM radio betrays my stability, and the past and your piercing blue eyes and laugh and scent come through my Cadillac speakers, I don’t turn the station.
I listen.
To Van Morrison.
Then I think of Van Morrison.
And when I think of Van Morrison, I think of you, and the memories flow like the river.
The Mississippi.
Alton.
- a poem by Dustin Danger, “When I Think of Van Morrison”