Imagine my surprise,
When, in the middle of kettlebell swinging,
I anticipate some edgy Iggy Pop on the streaming,
Only to be serenaded by the less than punk sound of…
How did that happen?
I’ve got nothing against Kenny,
Love the Caddyshack song,
But the rest of it,
Not my cup of adolescent years music choice.
I cranked up my intensity,
Hoping the rhythmic motion of exercise
Would take my mind away from 1987’s end of rock’s start.
Sweat dripped, muscles tightened, doubt in my stamina rose
Until finally, the last rep happened.
I read somewhere that the root word for nostalgia is not good,
Being a lazy linguist, I’ve never checked it out,
But having been alive and thriving in the 80s,
This retro trip was more than I could handle.
I hustled to the iPad, the song must be changed.
I fumbled through the password security,
Mr. Loggins sang some love song well,
But remember, I was listening for Iggy Pop,
Just as one of those synth fueled over played choruses began,
I hit the skip button.