Rock and Roll Has Got To Go!

A very fine young San Franciscan poet is writing a brilliant long poem about rock and roll and suicide, which may seem like a hackneyed idea, but is not. It's a very good idea when done well. Unlike Jeff Clark, said poet will not appear on the cover of his book with his shirt open and hairy chest exposed. He will not wear gold disco chains.

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The music only plays to highlight the yellow silence of the room. The city streets only glisten with motor oil and come, asphalt flowers. The tow-headed boy only listens to the song as nonsense, the syllables deaf, the monkey-sound he hears comes from a pocket anthology. A gift of saffron arrives in a plastic bag like the ones they use for sandwiches and potent chronic.

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Whatever song we should be hearing is the song our neighbor hasn’t played. Upstairs, someone plays “Take Me To The River” nearly every day. The song I need begins on David Bowie and ends on Stevie Wonder. The upstairs neighbor makes me think of child molesters. The next door neighbor is crazy, but I dispense fashion advice when she asks. The other next door neighbor is young and pretty and never home.

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When Robyn reads, she reads quickly. Her poems evaporate, leaving intelligent glittery poem dust everywhere. She is known to sometimes fold little notes into pretty little fans. Crepe paper boxes, and coffee cups that match my sweater. Nick’s poems are read conversationally, with feeling. But the feelings are disturbing. Julie reads her poems and everyone guffaws. In a good way. An empty Bud bottle. A crash. A conundrum.

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David Bowie wrote Rock and Roll Suicide, which is not only a fact, but a line from a song by the New Bad Things, a long-defunct PDX band. My friend Andy is writing a poem about rock and roll suicides. The little shit. David Bowie wrote a song called “Queen Bitch,” which is also the title of a poem I haven’t yet written, but mean to.

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My ex-girlfriend has begun employing me as a poem consultant and Iron Chef commentator. This is all right by me. One of my biggest fears as a human being is that people will think I'm a jerk. When folks who I've been a jerk to in the past initiate what seems like almost friendship, I feel that I'm not a total asshole. I like to feel useful, if only in a limited fashion.

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Paul Simon said: "She looked me over and I guess she thought I was all right. All right in a sort of limited way for an off night." History of my love life.