Turn that nob up a little higher, the neighbors can’t quite hear us

poetry

(bum bum bum)

there are thirty people in a basement
heads banging, fists pumping, guitars
screaming far too loud for the concrete
and old mattresses to handle so well

(bum bum bum)

But here I sit just watching, arms
crossed, headphones on, box of
donations for the bands in my lap,
and I only have one thought to think:

This is what music
is all about.

(bum bum bum)

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