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,
“Yahweh, Yahweh
Always pain before a child is born.”
I’m not ready to crawl out into the neon light.
But that’s more like it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem