Echolalia

It's a Wednesday night 

in a cold salty city. 

We're driving to a show

but by head feels shitty. 

'Twelve dollar cover please'

In a courtyard with no bar?

Young ass kids at the show

so we stuff the tip jar. 

Cozy on the back wall, 

the stage in perfect view. 

A pink haired goddess stands 

to get her strings in tune. 

And a soft violin commences. 

Goddess becomes the siren. 

Dopamine floods the mind

and I get lost admiring. 

As she sings of graces,

I'm falling into her.

My whole being relaxes

now my head doesn't hurt. 

Pink clouds fill the venue,

her music bounces off them. 

Romantic trance continues

maybe to play pretend. 

That I'm the only one 

she serenades tonight.

Alone in this hall with

her in the spotlight. 

She says into the mic,

'that's our last song tonight, 

what a lovely crowd

thanks for treating us right'

My friend goes to help them 

carry gear to the truck.

Introducing the siren

and my voice gets stuck. 

'I'll see you at my place'

my friend says to them. 

He sees my eyes widen, 

'I told you, we're old friends." 

Until next time Goddess of Echolalia...

xo, Jane.