screen dump 334 by tjc123

Screen Dump 334

Of course you remember those days, yes? . . .
soundtracked by Jaco's unfettered unfretted bass . . .
Can you spell Word of Mouth? . . .
Looping back to a mind of winter's pink skies
and the remnants of past players
infiltrating your portal
when 1 + 1 was an imaginary number
that laddered its way to the top of your Wish List
where Utopians sported recoilless Doc Martens
in colors to tweet home about . . .
There was no need . . .
no worms drilling into your OS . . .
Your play station was your life . . .
You were warned . . . acoustically . . .
Dylan's gray-sleeved The Times They Are A-Changin' . . .
as you made your way to the corner mini-mart
for Ed's toast (taste?) of the town . . .
circumnavigating the razor-fenced delusions
that profited everyone . . . and no one . . .
while vacuum tubes leaked
the words of poets who had signed off
on beta versions . . . bringing home the bacon
that would one-way-ticket them to an MRI
just when their buckshot ducks were all lined up
and the ovens were ready for the next mitochondrion . . .
Uber Drivers of the World deserve a break today . . .
A Room of One's Own . . .
Do you have an ARoOO? . . .
Of course you do! . . .
There's no telling . . . Yes, please go on . . .
rejuvenated . . . and rejuvenated . . . and rejuvenated
Come . . . You Master(bator)s of War . . .
stepping in and out of a series of dreams . . .
autopiloting plants from bulbs
commonplace bargaining chips YouTubing
your audition for a seat in the orchestra pit . . .
the pendulum swinging
back and forth . . . back and forth . . .
to Vincent's head on the body of a fly
in the flick's parting shot . . .
You was dumbstruck by the Creature from the Black Lagoon
and the mysteries of Julie Adam's white one-piece
that filled the screen
and your head
especially the scenes in the cave
on some backlot no doubt
which led to the bowels of the Paris Opera House
where the Phantom keyboarded
phantasmagoric seductions for Christine for over 27 years
besting Cats as the longest-running Broadway show . . .
Those were the days my friend
unfolding one after another
with suits papering the A Train
which morphed into The Polar Express
for most . . . if not all . . .
Little matter though . . . Little matter . . .