All those others
Standing around

Sardonic smiles
And obsidian eyes

My back bent and breaking
Under the strain

Of Fender Strat
And Blues Deluxe

And a hundred chords,
And riffs and licks

Earlier, the glances,
The nod.
The flirt

And hints at  even
more than that

But in the end
A key to a room

Where the janitor sleeps

Vacuum cleaner
screaming

Against my thin door