The Line

Just you and your bass and the black
shadow, the space you inhabit,
deep, down, bass – (it’s all about) –
A silhouette of you, that’s
all I ever know: the brand,
the unattainable,
the inexploitable.
You have a bass guitar in your arms,
not a child – that is the one,
still growing. And you
command crowds with the twist
of a finger, a bass, (how low can
you go) with the (sabotage)
shimmy of your hips. But you
and your bass-thumping (seven nation
armies) won’t control me.
The mirror of my
camera, bringing the noise,
will it be enough?