Becky Bradway

 

At the Storm Concert

Joey Ramone is a magician's wand.
Hair lank, glasses a hacker's
Jeans all holey. He's living off
    cotton candy & licorice.
Yawning, he looks back
    at the drummer who flutters sticks.

Why start so slow? Don't they know what
    they want to play?
A leaf floats from the ceiling like it's any other fall
Blowing around & over our heads.

My face hits the pillow & is almost cold.
The cat's fur is like my own hair.
Vibration hits the window & taps
In a face, but it's just my imagination, or
My friend's in white when sweets appear &
Hey! thunder turns into a drum rattle.

Joey Ramone leaps high, coming down on his face as
Claws dig the sheet. I shake the leaves
    from my hair and go.