Rock in the Age of Yuppies

Bless all of you willing to go outside, stand in line, dance with strangers, sing along, tip the bartenders, buy merch, wear the t-shirt, and tell your friends. My respect and love and former livelihood are with you.

Pressed against
the smell of digesting lunches/cigarettes,
elbows, doughy guts,
and lack of respect
guy behind me whooping like punctuation/breath
want to spit in your open yap
but i’m prepossessed, glaring around the tallest fucker here and
see on stage fat white men, poorly dressed
shuffling past fog machines
with hangovers, half-smiles,
nodding like Alzheimer queens
three and
we drown in pit-stained gut-clenched community
swear the roof will pop
swear the room can’t hold the
thump of bodies on rails
teeth locked in a vibrating smile
cells split and filled with sound
ears lost in the bleat of feedback, then re-found
you’re forgiven, guy behind
shrieking like your heart has burst
revived with splattered strobes and heat
all you did
was miss the beat

Dec 2013