The RPMs of the guitars
Like the motor
Of a fine-tuned engine
Climbed to a roar
His voice
A young man’s angst
As he growled
His dissatisfaction
With the lack
Of freedom
The smothering blanket
Of the status quo
Echoing the feeling
Of so many
In the death trap
Of the comfortable
Clarence’s growl
The sax full-throated
Powerful and unrepenting
Both a challenge
And a curse
The universal anthem
Of escape
Mocking my own
Submergence
Into the mainstream
Reminding me when
I felt
Born to run
