A Return to Tucson
By Don Iannone

Tucson,
Late August,
Rain,
Blistering sun,
Hot,
More rain,
Scorching sun,
Even hotter.

So begins--
the long
and almost lost replay
of earlier wild poetic adventures,
Just the sort of thing
for a hopelessly romantic 50-something
still possessed by good times,
fun friends,
and rock and roll.

Where did it all go?
The years,
The dancing,
and carrying on till two,
Pulling all those all-nighters
to write papers
and cram for exams,
All those candles--
burning out of control,
Wild flames--
shooting in all directions,
Tethered to roller coasters,
everyday was an adventure.

Life-shaping memories--
seemingly lost,
but then...
rushing back,
like the Columbia River Gorge,
while just standing there
at the sage-scented,
date palm-lined entrance
of the U of A campus.

I saw myself then--
back in 1969,
and now--
yes especially now,
My smile hasn't changed.
Deep down,
the same spark burns--
well into the night,
illuminating the path
I must follow.

All gray hair aside,
it's all the same--
inside me,
nothing has changed--
inside me.
And guess what?
I'm glad.