i once thought that if i listened to a song enough times,
then perhaps i would become like that song,
one with that song,
and i wouldn’t have to worry about identity anymore,
because it would be solidified in the gelatin of harmony
play a simple song
that doesn’t have a rhyme,
but for some reason has a reason,
that keeps the light strobes going,
while sweaty bodies groove
to a harmonic trance under a purple moon
blinking in and out of existence,
wondering what’s coming next,
wondering why life’s such a mess
the song ends in the middle
and it’s disconcerting,
it makes me feel as if the world abruptly ended,
especially since i kinda liked the song,
it was one of those songs by one of those bands
that is at the tip of my tongue,
that i used to know their name and all the names of the band members,
but now they’re a distant memory and i can barely,
rarely, fairly, remember the name of my first girlfriend,
who gave me mono—
though i don’t think it was completely her fault,
i wasn’t all that great of a first-time kisser,
if i’m being honest
Fred Aiken Writing 