I want a chord to resonate with the media hounds at the door.
An A minor perhaps
accentuating the trials and trepidations
of the parties of the first part
busily blogging their bowel movements.
I want to wade through their webs of wire, hands held high.
I want to be transported to an earlier time
filled with jawbreakers
stamped with phrases of affection.
I suppose I too want it all.
There’s no disguising the fact:
the LP in the atelier scratching to be set straight
trumps all self-deprecating patter
echoing between the two-families.
Maybe it’s the vegans
proselytizing in the nosebleed section at the double-header.
Let’s just say it grows tiresome.
The replay of this shackled white collar on parade
will likely invade the dreamscapes of many.
As it should, I guess.
Not to be tampered with, though, would also be
an acceptable cornerstone in this revitalization project
aimed at making downtown
a safer place for the moms and pops and kids
carpooling in to experience The Pirate Ride of a Lifetime.
They’ll have plenty of time later
to return to sorting their recyclables.
That mindset would indeed be a step up.
