I miss that damn
intrusive boom box,
lugged on the shoulder
of those great
“fuck you” fans who said,
“I’m diggin’ my music!
So are you, like it or not!
Enjoy!”
I miss being blasted by
that blaring cacophony
of brass and base and
Jimmy Hendricks off key
mess up of the
Star Spangled Banner.
I miss it all because,
now,
we have a million million
isolated I-pads, each whispering,
“I’m listening to my own music
in my own quiet, solitary world where,
Go ahead! Die or something,
stranger.
I don’t want to know why.
I don’t care.
I have 3000 songs to hear,
all by
myself.