the forced encore                                                                                                                                                                                            Scott Laudati

 

you were a kid once

and named songs like

epitpahs because the gun

was always against

your head and the hourglass

drained faster then.

but the gods are unkind

and the streets crack

from wheels dragging under

old steel.

 

the crowds count down now

but the fat lady never sings.

there was a poem you

put into every song

about an early death

because

like a warmer winter

or the gideon’s bible

life rarely seems like a gift.

and even when the lights come on

the crowd still has some beer

in their cups.

they paid the cover

your sweat wasn’t enough.

 

get back out there.

pull the ghosts from the 8-track.

you can sleep tomorrow as the van

pulls headfirst into a sunrise

and somewhere long ago

you might remember a kid

whose only dream was this life.