by G.M.H. Thompson
I went to that house show mostly out of boredom
nor did anything there change this state of affairs
as both acts were generic singer-songwriters
who strummed acoustic guitars & never soloed,
& the audience were the kind of white-bread schmucks
who spend all their time on TikTok or Instagram
& who’ve only read three books in their entire lives
& thus are almost unable to even speak.
I stood there mute, leaning on the kitchen counter
in a weird sort of circle with all these people,
quaffing beer & hearing about buying puppies
& how someone was good at reading the tarot
when the second performer walked in like thunder
& our eyes met & his eyes said he felt the same.
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