The music is weak impotent, despite their valiant efforts to churn the air The bass swallows, the treble fades I know the song yet cannot find the parts Lost in this sea of adolescents and itching adolescent eagerness. My mind strains, and finally begins to find familiar notes My body wants to jump to sing to play Yet locked and bound I stand, maybe a sway But not for long, The next band takeds the stage, they are worth a sound-check—yet even now the sound is all wrong Earplugs in, it sounds like I’m underwater— My anger builds, I am sure to glare menacingly at the sound-man, lolling at the back beer in hand. I slough off my skin, begin to drop-in allowing my baser nature to drink in these emaciated tones—still familiar enough The crowd begins to breathe and pluse. The sweaty, teenage white boys with their bored (amused) girlfriends. There is the kid who cannot move. He stares. A nod perhaps, no wait, was just a blip of noise on the screen.
My hands are raised, the drums begin their next lumber, my head’s nodding (banging) We do the dance for them, scream for them reach out our hands to them We want so desperately some of what they have. To reach that place that plane. We are grateful for the journey the sensational experience. My head shudders, my neck twines in a deep way My shirt sticks to my chest and back my hair drips. I drive home shirtless, smile on my face.
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