Indian Rocks

Her eyes were the blue of the great lakes where she was from. She pulled her shirt down from the neck to show them the tattoo she had drawn and inked herself. She was living on Indian Rocks beach with her mother taking care of her grandfather and already planned to get out of town after he died. It wouldn’t be long. She was waitressing at a local oyster bar and saving up. She wanted nothing to do with her mom who was alcoholic and had started her on the same path early, age twelve, and now she was eighteen and already been burned. She talked to them about her dream of leaving, like her father had before her, and not looking back.


by #katyamills

recipe #867.5309

recipe  # 867.5309

chord progression
for your cream base
walking the fretboard
ten pace
in the mind

we played guitar
on indian rocks beach
Jack Kerouac's home
not far
out of reach

got loud enough there
to drown out the culture
the shock and the awe
the commercialism
vulture

the iguanas in the trees
looked down and listened
through ear holes in reptilian
nuclear brain fission

i smoked a joint
back then to get away

rhythm and choose
what clothes and
got laid

trouble was tuning
young turtles at night
they walked the wrong way

towards the street
light

i may have walked backward
as well

wore my clothes
inside out
the sea didn't care
churning about

life was
swell