Trapped in a theater of misery
The voices in my head
Talking over the frown lines
All over my face.
Loneliness, pity, and loss of me was
Nothing but a way of life
Back in the mid-2000s.
Friends picked me up
Taking me to Tennessee
To stand in the dust
Before rains turned it all to mud
Just so I could listen
To the plaque-clearing sounds
Of protest songs about the war in Iraq.
The rain fell with great effect on my mood,
I jumped with all the others,
Most twenty or so years younger than me,
But I didn’t care,
I was free, away from the chatter, sold on the idea
That I could move on.
I owe Franti that one.