KISS
I think it was a Halloween concert
in the nineties, when they were already old
TV cameras picked up a slice of
Gene Simmons’ ass cheek
visible though a stylish hole in his leather pants
It looked like what you see when
you first open a can of spam
COLDPLAY
His voice sounds more and more
like a toddler in pain
ROLLING STONES
crusty skeletons
WHITESNAKE
Post facelift David Coverdale
looks like a woman at my gym
she is fifty-four years old
and just had a facelift
U2
I’ve given it all I’ve got
overcome the white man’s burden
bled Irish green all over the wailing world
whose environment I must protect, U2 like
stop it already
AEROSMITH
dried out witchy woman-esque narcissist
torched vocal chords and enough
rock anthems to kill us several times over
BEACH BOYS
surfside bartenders slinging margaritas
wait he’s in the band, that grandpa
QUEEN
this one is tough for me
but you look like Christopher Lloyd
in Back to the Future
Freddy is long gone
do you understand?
STING
wait didn’t you already
do the sloppy guitar thing
in the nineties
BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN
at some point
things should be placed
in a time capsule
there is no longer a need
to pretend thirty years haven’t passed
mary’s dress will always wave
we understand that
go build a cabin in the woods
————
John Meyers’ poems, stories, and essays have appeared in a wide variety of publications. Over the past year his work has been featured in The Louisville Review, Lunch Ticket, Fiction Southeast, and Thrice Fiction, among others. He has work forthcoming in Misfit Magazine, Hoot Review, and The Jellyfish Review. John lives in Maryland and can be found online at http://www.johnmeyersauthor.com