Unwrapping the Hose
Bursting into the stream -
Tumbling towards my heart, weaving
And pushing forward in a glorious parade
Of faint instruments and sunken-eyed
Marchers, stepping -
From where, or for what reason
Do they come ~
Stepping. Tumbling?
It is all crass and beyond my care.
I will let them in, I have let them in, and
Will continue to let them in.
Pillagers of pain, take it, and in return
I will give you a piece of myself -
Penance for the pleasure of your
Accompaniment - and
your majestic music.
They are greedy, this raging congress,
This billowing parade of oldies and blues,
And oh how i love the blues -
Every time they come back they take more
And play less, teasing and tormenting -
I must hear them as I did when they first
Came marching in, the flustering volume,
The orange cast of the flames that swirled
brilliantly around the gleaming batons -
I need to feel the roar, the rush ~
The stampede
But I know I will never hear them the same,
Though I keep inviting them, and giving,
And falling apart -
After I unwrap this hose,
I'm going to buy an I-pod.
