New music cures boredom:
Doctors orders, taken on board.
The internet is a fine source
for hours of eye dried fun.
Click through archives of interviews
with cheerful junkies' reminiscence,
memory a bit crusty and hungry
for an insomniac's curious click.
Seven of my dollars constitutes a revival.
I prefer to hit up the blogs and get
the out-of-prints for free.
Reference current sound preference;
pull up names that don't mean a thing,
then the speakers scream musical suicide
and my neighbors deserve an apology.
My library buckles under
the weight of redundancy;
classics are always being remastered
with bonus tracks buttressed by liner notes,
unreleased instrumental demos, and live
versions of greatest hits on cheap MP3's
for prices so insanely low
a fan becomes hooked and
dangles snapping on the bait.
My archives need to be complete;
stuff the audio player with the kill,
relishing the chase. Finally found
prey sufficiently stimulating to tickle
my musical tastes.
More hours go by than the aggregate
of inaccurate song times, titles, and track lists
begging for immediate correction before
five o'clock birds chirp out of sync
with the speaker's beat. It's blue outside,
and too blue to sleep.



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