The girls, the dames,
every petty thing.
The skirt, dress,
every pretty scene.
The way they tap toes
at the throws on the floor.
How bobbing their head
plucks doubt into the rhythm,
they miss the point,
but their clothing dons precision.
I'm up on stage.
They watch me from below.
Like the kneed posture pleated jeans,
patella to the floorboards.
“I saw your show.”
“No you didn't.”
But people saw you staring blankly
past.
hands me a drum stick.
“Can I have your autograph?”
“I'll do you one better.”
I stick the drumstick 6 inches in my ***.
“You sounded great...”
“No I looked like I was fake”
I acted, I stressed, I posed,
and I played.
“Lets have ***”
I say “No.”
It was just a show.
The act is done now the curtains
boast.
I don't bow.
I walk on out.
Through every living zombie
permanently in the crowd.
Put your ******* back on.
You will never mean anything to any of those stupid ******* girls.
Instead they will put your nudes on the internet and ruin your life.
You will think you did something great.
You were used.