This is for everybody,
bothered by the noise, the crunching,
the chewing, the back beats
of an out of control jukebox.
This is for everyone, the missed
opportunities and the taken
opportunities that maybe didn’t
work out because you misheard.
This is for everybody, everybody’s
everything. The drums of The Clash,
the silverware dump by the busser,
timed just right to miss the punch line.
The punch line of that long story your
friend was telling over dinner and you have to lean
over everyone who heard and shout above
their laughter, “What?” As you cheeks redden.
This is for everybody, that missed the
boat, missed the moment, missed the
chance, missed it. That “it”. The all
Everybody, you didn’t miss this.
Here it is for you. Here’s what it
reads, here’s what it meant,
and now you know.
You just didn’t know it,
because of the noises.
Or it was Fat Tuesday, in New Orleans,
and you’ve been drinking all day,
you’re half naked in the street wearing
a jester’s hat, drowning in colored beads.