The grime on the floors of this dive
are casting an honest reflection
of your soul:
Repeat the mantra:
Always book a local band on the bill.
Say this enough times
and come to spare the other bands
your lamentations of an empty room.
Did you forget there is someone
on sound we coaxed to play
“Jellyfish Jam.” Did you forget
the Bartender. The Ticket Salesperson.
Celebrate these foreign walls
racketing your noise across this
empty room where no net of bodies
is there to contest the sound.
Nothing to trip you.
--
Two kids just walked in off the streets
to join the volley.
and get dizzy.
Leave ‘em with a ring
that’ll get them home safe
and sing them to sleep.
That’s worth the two and a half
hour drive. Oh, yeah, and when
they give you a papercut of the door,
that’s for all of us:
that ten bucks is Wawa money,
so pony up
you rat,
and tell your sob story
to the friends who wouldn’t
make the drive.
JR Rhine, 2019
photo by mac cornish
