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

Slowride

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.