you have
tickets for
the old
rock star
who keeps
touring with
his wig
and limp,
his tired
voice that can't
hit the high
or low notes
anymore, but
from the distance
of the last
row, nothing
appears to have
changed.
you can almost
close
your eyes
and hear
that song
ringing in
your ears,
smell the smoke
in the air,
taste the warm
beer on
your young
lips.
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