I just can't believe how much it hurts
to watch the Bee Gees' One Night Only
concert on TV. As if the Seventies
weren't a decade
of missed cues and dread.
Yes there was that.
But also love love love
with those broken hearts.
As if that time
had been a kind of heaven for me.
How deep was my love?
There were 9 or 10,
each eternal, each,
one by one, took over the center
of my life.
I also hitched a ride to Istanbul, Paris,
Barcelona, Rome and Athens
twice during that time.
I lived in a tiny village on Crete
one November.
I cried for McGovern.
That precious time.
I knew then it was precious.
I knew everything is temporary.
Everyone who jumped to her feet
when the Bee Gees sang any
of their six straight hits,
understands the mystique.
Those seventies.
One Decade Only.
When everything important
had to happen to you.
How the years blew away--
balloons adrift from that party--
those rambling, riveting hours.
And now this mourning, this
Tsunami of grief
delivered by the Bee Gees.
I cannot believe it.
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