I genuflect to her idiolect
I tried to approach with respect but she read me like a memo
She was soft and direct
“Get in the back and lower a window”
I genuflect to her idiolect
Like she knew I would
I’m better with comedy and invectives
But nothing’s funny and there’s no one to blame
Nothing’s funny and there’s no one to blame
Like a rucksack full of light bulbs
Being transported over vaguely European hills
Heavy boots falling
Finding traction on unsure terrain
Listing with uneven steps
Fragile and bright
Awkwardly taut
This is how I feel
The only thing worse than blasting old, outdated pop music
Is blasting new, outdated pop music
At a captive audience
I’d rather have the spins than hear what you spin
Lady Gaga, I turn to vodka
Hearing Katy Perry I’d rather drink cooking sherry
Rebecca Black Velvet
But when you, two men payed to make a playlist, put on Lou Bega
This stops being hyperbole
Mambo Number 5 O’Clock Somewhere
teeth clenching veins popping skin tightening skull throbbing
DJs don’t belong in a mall
If I was hungover I wouldn’t make it
If I were drunk they wouldn’t make it
The mall walking morons move to the beat
My mind wanders, wondering how anyone can enjoy this
When I remember Schadenfreude.
I’d chuckle too if I were them thinking:
Better you than me
Twenty three
My persistence failed me
Ran out of creativity
Grabbed by apathy
Next year, NaPoWriMo. Next year.
I’d rather regret a night of not going out
Than a morning of “what have I subjected my friends to?”
It shouldn’t come to this
But it’s come to this
Losers don’t get mountains
When history has forgotten even the winners
Four faces will still stare down the horizon
Missing noses perhaps,
But still dominating the South Dakotan Skies
A nameless monolith
Overlooking their land
With eight victorious eyes