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The 80s
January 31, 2017
The decade was a requiem
To every god we’d lost
In the process of doing our hair.
We suffocated with hairspray,
Cracked bones around our fingers to make curls--
Released the wizened spirits
Into our boomboxes and waited
‘Til something hit us back
Onto the dancefloor.
It didn’t take much--
High pitched voices in general
Made us weak
And anything electric
Took over our feet like a shockwave.
Snapped heels, rolled ankles--
Our dead gods
Spinning into infinity,
Making themselves immortal in yearbooks
And CDs
And my grandmother’s hair.
© Joseph B., Mesquite, TX
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