Earbuds

Earbuds

I’m trending very testy
w/everyone wearing earbuds.
Conceivably, it’s not their playlist
but a Big Big Voice
imploring them
to “Kill the guy w/the gray goatee.”
Or the song of a lesser god divulging
“The poet killed your mother.”
It could be the Vicar’s Chant
intoning a code
that blows up a train,
or the murmur of sadists
chaining the young to lightless walls.

How am I to know?
Everyone’s so eclectic,
so compulsive w/
affected piety that
they’re texting my coordinates
to the fat guy in central command.
Marching music has always had
its Top 40. And deejays to play
the Hot Number One every hour
and twice on Tuesdays,
I might add. A Double Shot
of My Baby’s Love. Indeed.

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