Prudence Makes a Comeback
Dear Prudence,
won’t you
come out
to play?
Better yet
get on
the horn
& ring up
the band.
Clear out
the basement
& nail
egg cartons
to the
walls &
ceiling.
Turn up
the volume.
Rock’s been
morphed.
Punk metal
rap screeching
boombox horror,
a mirror
of the
War Machine.
Poor Prudence.
Maxwell’s silver
hammer bashed
out her
teeth.
Now it’s
time for
payback.
Spit out
the calcium
girl &
start in
singing.
Don’t get
stuck in
South Central
like a
gang-bang
mama under
a sky
full of
drones.
Look out
you tone
deaf motherfuckers
with more
testosterone
than talent.
Here comes
Bob Dylan
the voice
of God
with Prudence
on his arm.
Prudence &
her trio
are making
a comeback,
playing hot
licks into
egg cartons.
Just wait
til the
sun sets
& they
come roaring
up out
of the
basement.
They’ll turn
your world
upside down.
Meanwhile
Leonard Cohen
smiles into
the microphone
like it’s
a vagina.
“I’d like
to dedicate
this next
song to
Prudence,”
says Leonard,
& the
night sky rumbles.
