(pt. I) (written second)

some
‘wishing he was washed up’ Trey
prays to past solitude
while summer’s
long lost,
begotten,
third mistake looks on
unaware
of the despair
in the event of her own
existence

and, by the way, young man
ye shirt
be
too
tight
with irony,
beyond the comprehension
ye may hold-

but wait!
there’s more,
in name
and, shame,
for his follow up
a
fab four
cover,
they shuddered,
as though
the jukebox were out
of tune

and then,
though it were on some command,
Van Ronk
with a day job
arrives,
(not-so-prodigal son accompanied)

so together,
they save,
the sonic sanctity of the
room

(pt. II) (written first)
think of destiny,
they say,
predating
some self subscribed
cosmic tide-
think of how what’s meant to be,
shall be
despite
empirical hearsay
to the contrary-
believe,
a path preconceived
and
set for thee,
the great unavoided ultimately-

wait, and see,
they say…

and yet, I, remain
(at will)
unprescribed