can't skate fakie (yet)

Riding backwards down the drive,
Fakie practice during my cigarette breaks,
Nothing like the real thing, not quite,
But practice makes perfect, so I hope,
Or at least something better, better than now,
To visualize if nothing else, right mind, right action.
Looking for headphones and fan, somewhere here,
To block out the noise, to ignore what’s beyond,
Got enough stuff to deal with, don’t want anymore,
And burning up already, already sweating,
Not even summer, not even seventy,
Cold-blooded Asiatic, can’t stand the heat.
Still too much of a good thing, sometimes,
Too much booze, too many videogames,
Too much hung-over sleep, too many regrets,
Nothing is, but what is seen, experienced,
Simple but not innocent, anything but,
Guilty as the next, maybe moreso.
the kids play with their toys, their gadgets,
PSP and IPod, cd players and computer games,
the toddler keeps collecting stuff from uncle,
When he’s driving around town with Nokomis (grams),
Pieces and parts all over the floor, dollar store goodies,
Broken and strewn, destined for the dustbin.
Gotta find some better way, find some middle path,
Moderation in all things, not an issue with skating,
My body only allows me to do so much so often,
the weather lends a hand as well, sentencing me indoors,
To heal and to scheme, for the next big slam,
the physical reminds me I’m alive and that blood flows.
Trucks still feel too loose, need to tighten,
How tight is too tight, how loose is too loose,
Can’t skate fakie, can’t skate half-pipe,
Gonna blame it on my kingpin, gonna get it right,
Tightening until the bushing starts to bulge,
Until someone else tells me to do something else.
Pumping backward, pump at the peak,
the stall point, the nexus of it all,
the set-up point for kickturns, stalls,
Carving, pivots, tailtaps, too,
Feel that stall, the grandfather of them all,
the point at which my son decides to bail.
Compression, knees to chest, not lock-kneed,
Bending forward at the waist just not the same,
Articulate with those knees, God-given instruments,
Pretend they are shock absorbers, energy storers,
Turn out of the carve, stay on that board,
Feet on the board, body perpendicular to wall.
Catch the flow, catch that beat, ride the wave,
the rest of life, still the same, baby steps,
Toward something else, begins right now,
what do we control, where you want to go,
I’m telling you son, makes little sense,
But don’t give up what you want and believe.
Ride and enjoy, so many years to go,
How long, nobody really knows,
So live in the now, remember the past,
Push yourself to your limit, have a blast,
the only one stopping you is yourself,
stop putting tomorrow off on someone else.