Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Flint's pride and joy

We’re An American Band

We’re An American Band erupts
Unbidden in my head sometimes
A song I never paid
More than scant attention
No more no less than
Smoke On the Water
Though nowhere near
I admit  
Stairway To Heaven
But without a doubt
Equal to or less than
Free Bird
Which isn’t to say
Any of them approach
My indifference to
The Joker
Inured as I am
By a lifetime of
Second-hand exposure
To AOR radio
A dismal landscape
Likely as not to broadcast
Or it’s evil twin
More Than A Feeling
At any given moment
Day in day out
Eight days a week
Which, given the alternatives
Wouldn’t be unwelcome
Though far more likely
To turn up in endless
Rotation is the ubiquitous
Horse With No Name
Note for note
A song on par
With the despicable
Feels Like the First Time.
“We’re comin’ to your town,
We’ll help you party down”
Is best remembered
If remember I must
And apparently I do
As a public service announcement
Time enough to pack a bag
And get out of Dodge
Before the party starts. 

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