Visitor Hours
Visitor Hours
A Fender Strat slung over your shoulder, you
leaned into the bandstand mic, your harmonies fuzzed
by the club’s downmarket speakers.
The snapshot nailed your raucous cool.
1964, and all that. . . .
Recognition spikes or troughs. Today, you remember
me, a little, our cup of . . .
. . . . . . .
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