on the rocks
with a salty rim like a cocktail
paired with lox, in a room smoky
and dim. Shaken like maracas,

red painted wood. In this
mystery the music's where I
stood. I was shaken down
like a mercury thermometer. I

had a fever.  It burnt
like firewood. I was shaken
like a finger pointed right at me,
piercing through my dreamy

reverie. Shaken like a baby
that's been screaming all day
long. Bleeding in the brain.  I go out
into that dark, thick night like a high-speed train.