Histrionics

Blessed be the words of the father
of my erstwhile schoolmate, John, that came to me
between the subterranean shelves of Carrefour

“Cowboy music” he’d pronounced
“Hot love” sang Bolan

Madre mía! It can’t be all that bad

Now, dull the sirens and embrace me
Immerse me in the psychic depths
Take me down among the wandering souls

And when the pulsing shrill of sangre fails
I’ll follow in their footsteps to oblivion