A poem a day in April from Rutgers English PhD students and friends.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Day Jobs

Every year we thought we were too old to tour and every year we were a little less wrong.

                Time was you could go to the fair and there

But still, when Joanna woke up singing we are soooooo young it was only half irony:
I was the oldest and I was twenty-five.

                It's OK for the guitarist or something to wear a cowboy hat but not the singer

I invited the whole office to our last show. My boss's husband said, When I was in the men's room I could actually hear your voice, it's really good.

                I think the problem is that we're not really rocking enough           

Every spring with the cherry blossoms, the specter of grad school.

                Heaven forfend/Where are my friends

When did I become everybody's mom, I wondered. Maybe when I married our bassist? From the time I was nineteen I was basically always already married to our bassist.

                The amazing thing about her is she doesn't need a man

I practiced the tricky songs on the subway platform, willing myself to remember the right key. But it was usually the wrong key, so the practice was useless.

                I will always be seventeen

Girls, I want to yell back in time, those were day jobs.

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