-The disc is in and he walks over to the humming box,
scans quickly through the play-list, choosing the song,
the same on the album. He presses play and then
he clicks.
The sound fills the room, and then it clashes
against itself. The vocals yell out
and there’s an echo. Cymbals clash against
the very same cymbals, in a different form.
The rhythmic beating of percussion
in the background is upset.
The guitar verve crashes against itself,
coming too early and too late.
Everything is off, having lost its center,
destabilized sense with no beat.
He sings along, knowing he is off,
to one or the other.
That’s how it feels…
- 80
- 0