Suspicious Minds

On weekday nights when it grew 
too quiet
 
Alex the angry barman 
would strut towards the machine, somehow 
disable its need for money, and
select a batch of Elvis songs
 
And when the first one came on, he'd be scanning
the few customers for signs of disrespect

'There, that's proper music, none of 
your punk rock nonsense'
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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