Two neighborhood bands
spend the night in garages
wrapped in Christmas lights
even though it’s the summertime.
They create dissonance as they try
to be the loudest and if you stood
between them you would feel
the push and pull of all reality.

The guitar players are doing everything
to melt their strings with all
that they have learned, and the concrete
ground is burned by the thrashing
that could look like going mad.
The drums are the heart of it
adjusting the speed of everyone’s
thoughts, and they build towers toward
the climax of their songs.

The clash of sound kills all the words
so let mine stand for theirs.
A piece of art lost in the violence
of competitive preference,
to be restored on one stage
in the middle of a block
where there is nothing
that doesn’t struggle
to be seen.

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