Aerodrome

These are actually lyrics to one of my new songs, but I wanted to share them here as well, as I feel they’re some of the best words I’ve crafted. For context, an aerodrome is a small airfield or airport. I was drawing on a hazy, perhaps modified memory of my brothers and I as kids, biking to “the baylands”—a magical marshy area on the edge of the suburbs. I’m not sure if this is true—this may be where my brain sutures disparate memories and locations together—but I think you could see planes taking off over the baylands from a nearby airport. This poem is about the pains of growing up in a stuffy suburb and wanting to be that free—to escape to somewhere novel, where we could be liberated from our parents, school, and everything that made us feel powerless. But, in that pain, there’s also a bit of nostalgia for something that hasn’t passed yet. We knew someday we would miss these achingly complex, yet tender times. Photo from Woodstockings.

These are actually lyrics to one of my new songs, but I wanted to share them here as well, as I feel they’re some of the best words I’ve crafted. For context, an aerodrome is a small airfield or airport. I was drawing on a hazy, perhaps modified memory of my brothers and I as kids, biking to “the baylands”—a magical marshy area on the edge of the suburbs. I’m not sure if this is true—this may be where my brain sutures disparate memories and locations together—but I think you could see planes taking off over the baylands from a nearby airport. This poem is about the pains of growing up in a stuffy suburb and wanting to be that free—to escape to somewhere novel, where we could be liberated from our parents, school, and everything that made us feel powerless. But, in that pain, there’s also a bit of nostalgia for something that hasn’t passed yet. We knew someday we would miss these achingly complex, yet tender times. Photo from Woodstockings.

I asked a word of advice 

from a friend who’s wise and the holy,

And brought with me my own epithets

Like the dark and the lonely—

These terms that seem to enfold me

We walked from the house

And wound up in a field

Behind the aerodrome,

where the suburbs looked unreal

Shrouded in a fog 

The apocalypse of everything I knew

Swallowed in the tall grass

As the planes flew out of view

I read for answers

In the lines of a haiku

Spelled out in the jet streams

That etched the sky above you

And prayed it would tell me what to do

‘Cos I feel like an outlaw,

Hidden in this field

Behind the aerodrome

Towers high of steel

Electric like an eel

Wires cross and crack

Promise we’ll escape here

Watch the wheels leave the tarmac

Inspect my lifeline

Predict my winding years

Embedded in my spine

Old fables and a cache of tears

I can only hope that they dissolve when I leave here

Would you be an outlaw to find your home?

Would you go out walking with me by the aerodrome?