Desperate to be surprised
I scour San Diego for something gnarly.
The note beside Tom DeLonge’s signature guitar reads
Spray paint, burn marks, whatever it takes to look cool…
yet my pilgrimage to his rock shop fizzles flat—where’s the edge?
Alien plush toys. Astronaut spacesuits. A gold rocket ship.
The original album artwork for Angels & Airwaves, I-Empire.
Where did the past decade go? I miss 2007 and every emo
friendship cultured by the scene. The voice of my ghoulish ex
breathes like a brown dove—a song I want to memorize again.
Circle pits stink of arm pits | Warped Tour haze in Florida.
Backseat sing-a-long screams | Skateboard air in California.
I notice a black Australian cowboy hat perching on a hook
and know it was Critter’s—DeLonge’s late sound engineer.
Critter crafted guitar solos sublime enough to make you cry.
A thrilling mystique filled with spine-chilling crescendos
scoring your relative world | the epic inhabiting your head.
After nightfall
we are all that we are
from embrace to escape
we weep, we sing, we crossover
on our journey to the light.
