Starting a song with mock scat is both honor and sacrilege. An untouchable tribute that can’t be grasped. Sampling Spandau Ballet gets panties wet because singing about being true transcends decades. Dreads and twists say artistic credibility, or, trying too hard is the hallmark of every failed artist. Wearing your weight in costume jewelry has never killed a man, but spoiled milk has. Every psychedelic montage begins as a monochromatic flash. Wading through smoke the color of bruised stars is symbolic of teenage trips I was too prude to take. Underwater baptisms cleanse impurities but are a lot like drowning. Random girls hand pseudo-hip-hop artists flowers and spin away off set, never to be seen. This is how it always ends, the lovely people leaving before giving you their names. Christina Applegate, you gotta put me on. Making a cameo in my own life has never been this hard.
Daniel Romo lives and writes in Long Beach, CA. He’s the author of When Kerosene’s Involved (Mojave River Press, 2014) and Romancing Gravity (Silver Birch Press, 2013). He is a cofounder/editor at Wherewithal and head poetry editor for Cease, Cows.