Imagine my confusion
On this hazy morning at 10:30
When I’ve already taken a nap and
As the music coming from my cheap bluetooth speaker
Was the opening to A Tribe Called Quest song
Deeply buried in a running playlist,
But it was Lou Reed who started singing.
Is that how my parents felt when Little Richard sang?
Were they expecting Pat Boone?
A travesty there, at least “Quest’s” song goes somewhere good,
Not so absurdly vanilla.
The early Sunday haze has been enough,
To keep me hobbling, wobbling, not falling down,
But too non-committal to lace them up
And keep a pandemic inspired streak alive.
Yet, the welcomed mix up did something to my inner being,
So psychological and new age there, eff that,
I’m woke, up from whatever self-inflicted waste I was in.
Somewhere there’s a boat about to be picked up,
Maybe I’ll sing Quest, Lou, or Little Richard
Because there’s no confusion in a day
When music does its thing.