You know?
I’m
Just
A
L
I
T
T
L
E
B
I .sihT L
T L
Tired of A
It’s not as if the want of the want was ever good for a body.
it’s not as if the body is in want for the lack of want.
it’s not as if the if is not.
It’s not.
The band is playing some bridge or another,
but we’re standing round the punch-bowl,
‘course, there’s those 80s teen rom-com crazed two down there,
but you ‘n me,
we’re just enjoying the low lights,
the terrible, but somehow repeatable, punch,
and some kid who keeps requesting that blue song–
’til the lead singer is red in the face,
lingering on that lone “ironic” request for Free Bird,
just a little too long,
and the crowd leaps on the idea,
and the band reels at the idea.
But the bassist nods at the drummer.
And the drummer holds up his thumb.
And the guitarist clenches his fist.
And the singer shakes out his hair.
And they sing the absolute worst rendition of Free Bird,
but it’s complete,
guitar solo and all,
guitarist bleeding onto the stage floor,
concerned chaperones unsure of what action to take–
the throngs of children do not provide an answer, only questions,
mostly questions (should they be doing that?).
We take all that in,
The rom-com teens don’t,
but did anyone expect them to?
And maybe I *am* tired.
but moments like these.
Moments like these.
