JOHNMICHAEL SIMON POETRY

Urban cowboys, flipping channels,

chrome-black faces, downloading ringtones,

buzz-fleshing conversations, texting contacts

in search of a quick fix of flicker-message

novelty and beer

 

Interconnected twenty four seven

fucking their minds in

orgies of coitus interruptions

like roomfuls of Argentinians or Italians

shouting each other down, all talk no listen

 

So that when there’s a total solar eclipse

or power outage, or rubber-legs overdoses

on painkillers, you will see them

oozing out of brownstones or cellars

 

Rubbing their eyes, almost awakened

seeing a bird, two dogs humping, city foxes

slinking away, cats crawling from garbage cans

and they look at one another, numbed

by this sudden silence

 

Then, in a flash of lightning, comes

a rumble of gratings closing

somewhere a circuit breaker clangs shut

electric guitars jerk alive

 

And from a metallic sky, the storm

of words renews torrential,

rushing into grateful hand-held ears