Return to Forever
In Spring 2020, not long before the pandemic came crashing down, I published a couple of new pieces in Willows Wept Review. This one is a bit like a prose poem, yet non-fiction based, so I settled on “creative non-fiction flash.” The title “Return to Forever” is an allusion to the 1970’s jazz fusion band, a thematic focal point for the whole piece. Plastic Fantastic was a used record store in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, way back in the 1980's.
The fusion of June green leaves, a dry breeze, boundless blue above, and Return to Forever’s Where Have I Known You Before on vinyl, sounding as fresh as the brilliant day I discovered it, despite the crackle of dust in the grooves.
I’m remembering the bins at Plastic Fantastic, being taken in by that song title because it made me think of the crush of my life. I felt like I had known her since before birth, before breathing. How did Wordsworth tell it? Trailing clouds of glory.
No vocals, no lyrics, just Chick’s phat keyboards, Stanley Clarke’s bass popping, Al Dimeola’s fingers licking the fretboard, Lenny White pinning the groove to the kick beat.
When I listen through the graphic equalizer my daughter trash picked for me, treble boosted to compensate for my hearing loss, I follow each ray of the red sun and the lava light and…
