poetry by j matthew waters

the idol maker

close your eyes & make a wish
it just may be your last

who’s next is playing
in the background
& suddenly you find yourself
in nineteen seventy-one

the current wars
aren’t much different than the old ones
especially when launched
by the eventual loser

but the music that ensues
the poetry yet to come
now that is beauty to the ears
turkey-noodle soup for the soul

you sit back & say things like
I remember when
or back in the day
everyone surrounding you
singing yeah yeah yeah
a chorus for the ages

march two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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