Elbow
Chinks of light channel through the sandwich-shaped isosceles between my vinyl coos; on a loop, I repeat like a jumping record,
‘Buddy, some you win, some you lose.’
My cape, my special powers: both been shipped out.
Now I sit shrivelled, small, fixed front man’s pout.
The fickle signal of Facebook status; changing, rearranging, flagging hiatus.
My cappo still on the bereft fret; to-do list, must pull those odes from band’s set.
Stacked music maestro triangles dapple, trespass over swollen Adam’s apple,
my mug, a makeshift dancefloor, where you strut away fleeting feelings swore.
Bosanova-ing your kitsch bowling shoes over each jilted face you pick and choose - a ballroom dance floor, the same as my face -
invaded my heart, vacated my space.
‘Buddy, some you win, some you lose.’
My cape, my special powers: both been shipped out.
Now I sit shrivelled, small, fixed front man’s pout.
The fickle signal of Facebook status; changing, rearranging, flagging hiatus.
My cappo still on the bereft fret; to-do list, must pull those odes from band’s set.
Stacked music maestro triangles dapple, trespass over swollen Adam’s apple,
my mug, a makeshift dancefloor, where you strut away fleeting feelings swore.
Bosanova-ing your kitsch bowling shoes over each jilted face you pick and choose - a ballroom dance floor, the same as my face -
invaded my heart, vacated my space.