I Need the Music

The echo in there is terrible.

Sound bouncing all over

the place like a racquetball,

batted between two sweaty grown businessmen

trying to hang onto their last gasps of

youth and manliness.

There’s no music to it.

It’s just a constant popping

thud sound, back and forth and

back and forth. Followed by the

occasional grunt.

The occasion aches.

I miss music in there.

I don’t know where it went.

Now it’s just sweaty old guys

trying to make a deal like it was still

1988 and still using brick sized

cellular phones.

The music in there was fun,

edgy, raw, even crunchy at times,

it kept my toes tapping and my head

bobbing and made anything else going on

seem bearable. The music in there   

made the day pleasant.

“Mer-pop, Mer-thud, mer-pop,

mer-thud,” all day long now in

the space where music used to

play.  The squeaking sneakers

on the hard wood. The references

to how this quarter's business is doing.

I should just take it over again and

play the music I like. The music that gets

me through my days and propels me into

nights that never want to end.  

I have got to clear my head and get

the music back in there.