breaking form

i miss being on stage

but not the lights

the audience

the bluster

and bourbon

i don’t miss the attention

or mis-intention

however it might

fall from the clouds

the manna in the parking lot

the crunch

of a vintage sg

or even the marquis

the roadside bright lights

and much darker bars

what i miss

is the little part

the subset encompassing

the whole becoming

the machine running

and who i was

for a few hours

an instrument

hot

on a 58