It is wee bit before sunrise;
song comes forth sounding
like Everly Brothers; song
of wistful heart; cliche song
ending, switching to jaunty
ragtime beat; Doc Watson,
blind voice, song as joyful
as icon in Russian church —
no joy superficially but behind
screen of sadness — song ending;
DJ speaking of 1964, switching
over to modern noise,
bluegrass fused to rock drums; then
recording of station ID
so it will be known by few listening
at this hour, those who likely know
anyway; this ends, turns over to
someone called Nathaniel Rateliff;
music never ending at sunrise,
continuing a long night
without sleep;

listen, pal:

this boy is tired,
borderline remorseful over
being awake or at least conscious
for this concert;
eclectic, illusory
gladness over
white noise of dread;

this is sameness, penance
for rising with sunlight’s arrival,
doctor’s appointment coming;
music secondary to wondering
what happens next.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T