Jack of Harts

I grew up under a full moon, my toes in the water, watching firelight glinting off the waves.  I remember guitars, cold beers in the coolers, and dancing like I didn’t have a care in the world.  We swayed back and forth to the good songs, lighters held high.  We were never growing up.  Then the Shang came.  Now, every chance I get, I grab myself a guitar, find a beach and some pretty girls, and I play.