ESPECIALY IF BY ACCIDENT

And there was a porch. A shiny handrail wrapped in cheap gray rustoleum. A colony of fixies shackled. Must have been a hundred. New handle bars. Fresh spray-paint to cover any lurking insignias. Lime green. Flat black. Bright red tires. Music is for listening. You pay to watch it be pulled out, puked, planted and put together right before your eyes. Pay for it. A service rendered. Meant to affect, but you have to hear it. Have to give its smaller, cumbersome units a chance. It is helpful also not to drink until everyones face becomes the same featureless egg. The concert is not made better by your narration. I promise. Nor are you coherent enough to offer meaningful criticism. Fifteen dollars to drink until your eyes melt and try to find someone who will have sex with you. You could have bought some comic books and a soda. Maybe some gum. A nice little paperback even. A record.