The old lady of Rock and Roll

clears her throat,

smiles benignly to the audience,

a sense

of sorrow in her face

and as she is about to give

her final rendition,

her glorious epitaph to a worthwhile

dream, the Thunderstruck

and those with Big Balls

in jumps a man

instead

who can’t sing a note

but carries on the illusion

to the sound of guns

not cannons…

A Rose that falls

so desperately low

does not salute the worthy,