i just finished a song. if i can get it recorded in the next few days and then figure out how to post the sound file, i shall.

the classic rock band
on stage is
making a raft
from old bones
and old couples
are climbing on,

bobbing on the floor
as they get their sea legs back
on friday night
at the wood river cafe.

it’s chain of fools
and summertime
and white room and
strange brew,

and everyone knows all the words
and half the room is cocked
and the other half is just behind them.

when the band takes a break
the smokers gather out back
and when the band comes back on
they don’t hurry in, they just
finish their smokes and hurl the butts into
the full sand bucket by the door.

now it’s eagles and byrds
and creedence and stevie ray
and everyone who wasn’t crocked before
is now,

and the good ship sails into the midnight hour
with a band who won’t quit their day jobs
but wish they could, and all the passengers
wanting anything but work,
and when the last chord plays everyone
goes home, thinking about

sunrise over the ocean, cheap guitars,
pretty men and women, sweat
on a drummer’s brow,

the way the room rocked and tumbled
for them, for them alone,
just the way it used to rock.