Bob Dylan.
i have nearly everything
he's ever
sung,
expect maybe his Christmas
album.
a train wreck of sorts.
but i can't go
see him in concert
anymore,
where he croaks out
all the old songs,
now unrecognizable,
the beat
and rhythm changed,
the words
slurred
to the point where
you can't even sing along.
he's wearing
his top hat,
rebellious as ever, holding
a cane
and wearing
striped pants. a minstrel
man.
i love Bob Dylan,
but it all feels strange
and terribly wrong.
and then again, what else
is he to do,
stop and go home?
no.
he's determined to go on
and on and on.
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