Down a long and dimly lit hallway
Tucked behind the south facing wing
I found myself wandering late one night
In search of some long forsaken thing
My approach felt oddly sedative
The hallway terminating with a door
Crossing the threshold felt just like returning
To the place I’ve been many times before
The space was warm and inviting
Wood-paneled walls from floor to ceiling
Mustard yellow shag tickled my toes
Giving a surreal, otherworldly feeling
A dark desk lies in the middle of the room
With a sextant and compass set in brass
All the instruments needed to navigate
My way back to a place from the past
I sit down in the brown leather chair
Give the room one long appraising glance
Taking note of the console TV set
The tube once dark begins to dance
Familiar forms appear there on the screen
The content between the ad and show
From the liminal space of broadcast TV
Come the mechanics of imagination aglow
The interstitials continued to play
Schoolhouse Rock, Time for Timer and such
Education masked as entertainment
Feed my young fertile mind so much
The interlude concluded with a static hiss
The dusty cathode ray fell dark once again
From the corner of the den the hiss was picked up
As the radio crackled with beats from then
“It’s 10 o’clock at WOKW…we are OK100!”
Fragments of familiar music begin to flow
The soundtrack of some forgotten day
Coming through in crystal-clear stereo.
Did I just imagine these strange things?
Is my memory obfuscated by dreams
Something’s flickering at the periphery
Reality pulls apart at the seams
My mind, drunk on memory, awakes
The surreal quality of the den taking shape
Moments that seemed insignificant then
Are signals bouncing around this dreamscape
Time it seems, is a relentless tidal force
Beating brutally at the shores of our youth
Memories archived in dimly lit spaces
Keep us firmly grounded to the truth
Sensing the end growing near, I glance
Giving one more solemn look at this place
Realizing that these things that define me
Have been preserved here in this space
The fabric of my being is substantial
These rooms of my mind, partially charted
The need to explore every corner becomes
A sacred quest for the open-hearted
The once dimly lit den grows brighter
Signaling the end of this night’s reverie
The relics from the analog age fall silent
Fading back into distant memory.
Mannino Acid 