THE DOOR TO SOMEWHERE ELSE:
The music makes my toes curl,
The kind they play when you get a massage,
That I always ask to be turned off,
(Politely),
Well,
This is worse,
It’s got fake strings,
Imaginary bigness,
Swells of plastic emotions fill an otherwise perfect evening,
It stops suddenly,
A distorted voice says,
(Deep & low),
“Test”
Fantastic!
Here comes the night,
Announced with a beautiful imperfection,
That makes small children laugh,
And families stop eating to gasp
(K)