Midwest Summer Nights

I remember the smell of the concrete.
After a Midwest summer nights rain.
I remember the sound of the screen door.
Slamming shut on hot humid day.
I remember the birthdays, the anniversaries, the good times.
I remember the smell of the concrete.
After a Midwest summers night rain.
Daylight shines on this neighborhood. Parallel houses shaping dreams.
Locusts come around at the scent of the summer.
Buzzing ears as we play in the streets. Bicycles line our driveways.
Yards manicured Kentucky blue.
But behind these white picket fences paint a family portrait black and blue.
Still I remember the rain.
Backwoods served as a getaway. From suburban homes falling apart.
And life is a car on the front lawn. Broken down, it’ll never restart.
The scratches and bruises will heal. One by one they’ll slowly fade away.
But the sound of the thunder down those halls, is burned into my memory.
Oh I can still hear the thunder.
I remember the birthdays, the anniversaries, the good times.
I remember the smell of the concrete. After a Midwest summers night rain.