Ken's is gone

Ken's is gone.
The summer of 1974, when all the world
Revolved around an asphalt parking lot
Outside a pizza parlor
In a strip shopping center
In Dunwoody, Georgia
Is gone;
Tied in a knot like a ribbon
Through which the synapses zipped,
Not so immediate
As they once were,
But that was thirty five odd years ago
And all the world revolved around
The heavy-handed comradery and bonhomie
And those sweet, tender ladies
That would condescend to come over to us
And lean there with us against the hot metal
Of our parent's cars,
Shooting electricity through our limbs
Through an offhand glance or the brush of their hair,
Fuel-injecting the juice through the engine
Living on pizza and coke,
And an occasional beer,
Served al fresco in an empty cul de sac under a mournful moon
That surely knew that we were leaving soon
On to better things, bigger worlds,
Too young and stupid to realize
It was better to grasp that summer scent while it wafted
To sweep it to rest among your dreams in those faraway places
And to fill an odd page with tenderness
When the years drifted by like an early snowfall.