(In memory of Edward Van Halen)
A hierarchy grounded in bass notes with crescendos of rapid-fire scaling thrust beyond the established confines of what was considered proper at the time, Mother’s warning ignored while mother and my brothers sit in the first row. As a simultaneous fall of four fingertips across the shoulder blades of a lover, rather a sequential falling and then a brush, a soft sweeping thumb caress across the high ridge of each blade - the slide of the tips, a sensation, a tingle - like finger tapping strings on a fret board and one making a living distorting electrified strings, bending and stretching both highs and lows, lows and highs, the sounds deafening our ears, ringing and the fog of smoke burning our eyes, tearing and the scent of cannabis filling our nostrils, inhaling - all the while realizing much later in life that all was grounded in the loving presence of the First Cause.
Gary Edward Geraci