Friday, March 6, 2015

NOT IDEAS ABOUT THE SONG BUT THE SONG ITSELF

Mellow and delicately
yawning—the slow throats 
of your ears

stretch without strain
near the dark 
end of winter
and then—tentatively affording one another 

the momentarily
decadent
opportunity to savor—soon snap

to a sound—still faint 
fuzzy
faraway 
beguiling—

a sound that could only
have come from outside—because never!
in your right mind

could you have dreamt 
of concocting—

the curiously vernal melody—now inviting 
itself inward nonstop 
through your cartilage-

thin walls—from the uncharted wealth 
of such possible worlds 
as might just exist somewhere
off in the alley—

the unmistakably—rattletrap clamoring
organ and clapping 

hands—
of the goddamn J. Geils Band!




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