I purposely slip into the state I call cave dwelling.
Simplify by hiding behind the blue speaker on my desk.
I conjure my inner renegades—
The Who screams, “We won’t get fooled again.”
I twist the tuner because that’s as cynical
as any love song I’ve ever heard,
maybe Johnny Cash all in black,
as honest as a man can be about,
'The Beast in Me” is the spin I'm looking for.
Still, I like the pounding of the woofer:
boom, boom, boom.
“To all the girl I loved before, ” I twirl baton-like,
not sure I like Julio mocking me.
Then like the thin breeze in the full sun
it sneaks up on me—
behind the big black wire, static electricity everywhere,
Always pain before a child is born.”
I’m not ready to crawl out into the neon light.
But that’s more like it.