Disconnect

The band is powered up and ready to go,
the big PA on tall poles and amps stacked
and cords snaking across the stage looping
around the mic stands and the sound man
wears headphones and tries to locate the
source of the buzz, test test, the singer
leans in and the guitar player finds one
chord and then another to the song we all
know, a fuck-the-system bare-chested anthem
that rattles our collective bones and we
stomp and sway and raise our fists though we
can’t discern the words through the tsunami
of sound we can’t understand them at all.

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