Soundtrack By Frank Brunner

Soundtrack

Lately, I've noticed that Life's soundtrack sucks.
It's noise. Sure, people say they love the rub
of an unlubricated cricket's wing
when they propose. They say they love the buzz        
of honeybees in gardens where their toddlers swing.
Also the drum of rain, whether they're making
love or bullet-meet-my-palate plans. For fuck's sake, 
have they ever even heard real drums?
Would it have killed the world to give us better songs?
I don't mean birds. I mean I want what plays along
to match a mood and deepen sentiment:
a wild cello on the battlement
in every storm, piccolos at all picnics,        
for fugues a Rubens tube crackling with crickets,
a hardcore chord that shatters glasses each New Year's.
Can people not hear something better? Are they afraid?
Since I met you, the standard has been raised.
Can Life not outplay me for us?
That's it.
You could stop reading here. But to be clear:

I want a chorus of men, blazing like angels
in tall top hats, clapping their high hosannas
on sidewalks glittering with manger-stars
each night I walk you home.
			     I want rock bands			
on beaches, sand in the amps, grunge chords that blast  
the caps off waves, electric eel guitars		      
squealing, and belly-wobbling reverb each time you splash.

And the angels sing: “Hail Mary you're the bomb
It sucks you missed the fun but were a mom.”

I want Aeolian harps electrified,
wa-wa pedals wind-driven, and drums half-buried
for helicopter maple seeds to strike
on landing.							
	  I want when we are married
pixie MCs in flower boxes dropping			
mad bars for dew-dancers, spitfire rhymes,
and new kicks for daffodils in chorus lines.

And the angels sing: “Hail Mary full of child
It sucks because you weren't even that wild.”

I want your body's beauty matched in sound,
Tinkerbell eyelashes, bare shoulders cocked
like cymbals set to crash when your hair comes down,
flute feet, dissonant hands.
			     I want worlds rocked,		
pregnancy in three movements, honey
in THX surround, and all evening gowns
accompanied by themes from movie screens.		

And the angels sing “Hail Mary let's be real
How do you think that made Joseph feel?”

That's it, again. Stop reading now. 
You’ve shown me how Life goes so wrong.
Wisdom teeth.  Appendices. No songs.