Wednesday, April 18, 2018

NaPoWriMo, Day Eighteen, Poem Six


I don't find it ironic
to have muzak Metallica's
"Nothing Else Matters"
playing in the cafe,
even if I'm old enough
to remember when it released.

I always listened in fun,
singing, slap you but shit splatters
in place of its boring chorus.

Irony came early
when the song was playing
in a strip club I surveyed
while searching for a venue
for my best friend's bachelor party.

Nothing else mattered.
The song, one lone dancer
at the pole, one afternoon regular,
who might have been imagined.

Now the cafe blares muzak
of Sam Smith's "Stay With Me,"
just substituting vocals
with violas? Or are those cellos?

The young want their irony
straight, no mixer, no chaser,
determined to shatter their past
before it's started.

1 comment:

David Somerset said...

I like it! Always interesting along the frontiers of cultures!