What are the collars
of our shirts for
but to hold
back
the
burst

but a doubly insular
and keen witness
to our sweet
noggins
top
our
heads

those blues get
us down
and melt
obligation
to keep
a methodical
still
going

rock and roll?
the duress,
the exhaltation
the fine
release,
the mist

the spirit we mock
is the spirit
that moves
our bodies
to work