Poem: Unknown Ska Band

Unknown Ska Band

He thought that
playing bass
in a band
would make him
feel important.

He learned scales.
He practiced
everyday.
In many
quiet hours
he wrote songs
about the
girls who
didn’t want
to date him,
or the dad
who couldn’t
be bothered—
embarrassing,
real-life stuff.

He taught these
songs to his
three bandmates.
Sometimes they
rolled their eyes,
bust mostly
they were game.
They played the
songs over
and over
until they
were as good
as they could
possibly
ever be.

He could jump,
kick, and slide
while he played.
He wondered
if someday
he would be
able to
dive offstage—
crowd surfing—
so he could
feel supported
by a sea
of people
who would be
honored to
touch the boy
with the bass—
the boy who
wrote some of
their favorite
songs about
teenage things.
He thought that
someday he’d
be loved by
crowds because
he was a
person worth
being loved.

It didn’t
work that way.
No one cared
about the
songs he wrote.
The band was
not that great.
There were a
few shows with
indifferent
and bored crowds.
Before long
he put the
bass away
in its case.

Years went by
and the dust
grew thicker.
His teenage
crushes all
married young.
His father,
who could not
be bothered,
passed away.
There was no
legacy
of his time
with the bass,
not even
a ruin
or a stray
wiki page.
But even
a lifetime
later, he’ll
carry those
springtime days
in his heart,
and he will
remember
fondly how
heavy the
bass guitar
felt when it
would hang from
his shoulder.

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