by Anonymous
You were the antiquarian of driving a Thunderbird out of a high school parking lot on a crisp Thursday afternoon while your girl hands you your first Miller Lite of the weekend.
You were the turbine spinning as people cheer so hard on Daytona’s infield that rolled up Playboys fly out of the back pockets of old Levis.
You were the solar panel soaking up the relaxed excitement of a first step taken on a killer Wichita morning.
You were the tap in the tree of life for every $100 bill found on the ground, calculus exam slayed with a 71, and cold drink of water.
You were a dream catcher ready for fleeting moments of vigor, the warm breeze of exuberance. Ready to ride them like a twisting bull and preserve them in crashing waves.
- Josh Wayne