Oasis / Blockbuster: On how I became a millennial artist - Alma Peek

1. Ode to the Southside in July

When was the last time I drove the Southside?
The neighborhoods, not the Interstate.
Summer 1999, before I moved away.
Fridays after Blockbuster shifts,
I used to drive my friend Germán home.
Well, his work name was E-Man.
We’d stop and get the fried fish family plate at Bud’s,
And eat in his driveway at nine o’clock dusk.
All over the Southside,
holiday lights twinkled year-round.
Perfect, not trashy in the slightest.
E-Man was my friend from Spanish class, senior year.
Back then, I used to be able to discuss abstract concepts,
even while using slang. You wouldn’t believe it:
¡Neta! ¡No manches guey! 
¡Sería problema polysemica! 
The native speakers misunderstood 
the Puerto Rican teacher, announcing a field trip to the restaurant Mi Tierra,
hearing patría instead.
HaJajajajajaja
We laughed so hard.
Christmas in July,
driving my good old friend home.

2. Ode to waived late fee(l)s while Oasis plays on the radio
The first time I understood art-by-generosity,
and by that I mean the truest form of artistic power,
Oasis played over the acoustic tile ceilings. 
Oh! I discovered the joy of illicitly waiving strangers’ late fees:
Hey Dude, want me to take care of that for you?
God! It made people so happy! 
Then I drove down De Zavala, 
Windows down,
listening to “Champagne Supernova” in my dying Jeep Cherokee,
Rasputín.
Yeah, people believe they’re out for the summer.

3. Ode to the Jeep Cherokee on the flatbed 
But everyone lives and dies.
A few weeks later,
Rasputín’s transmission died for good.
And a family friend showed up with a flatbed trailer,
wearing a Little Tramp Bowler Hat.
He tugged the air horn cord when we asked for it.  
We parked across from the dealership, 
drove the Jeep onto the lot,
and just pretended it was the best machine ever made for a trade-in.
From the middle seat, E-Man said:
This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done!
It was true for me, too, of course.
After a conversation with the mechanic, the salesman said:
What we can’t figure out
is how y’all drove that piece of junk even a block to get here.
Jajajajahahahaha

4. Ode to the Interrogation Room
We called it the haunted back room,
the windowless place where employees disappeared mid-shift.
Summer was ending.
We floated the river a couple more times, and
I’d left my swimsuit drying in the backseat.
Then the corporate suits came to town.
One by one, they brought us
into the dim back room.
Have you ever seen E-Man
smuggle DVDs into his backpack?
So I left that job forever, 
and I guess it couldn’t have been long after,
they left forever, too.