CLOSE, BUT NO CIGAR

It hit me after I heard Then,

Their throbbing song on TV,

Moved,

I knew what I had to do

I slipped on a black, silk tee shirt

And tight black jeans

Practiced strutting around my room

Like a cocky roster

While singing my best Gloria
"Like to tell you 'bout my baby."

Decided I wasn’t a singer

Went down town to buy an instrument

Found the music store closed

For Yom Kippur

Remembered I should be fasting

Asking for forgiveness

My stomach in a knot

Had an awakening

Mine was a stageless future

Realized and resigned.

I had some of what it’d take,

But not enough…

Clothes, but no guitar.