Showtime at the Apollo

Down at the clearing, they’re

clearing everyone out, killing

each other over burial rights.

We’re lining up at the ticket stand,

complaining about the prices and

the early beer cut off.  Everybody

else is stuck in designer traffic.

 

Goya’s in the parking lot spray

painting a loveletter to god.  He’s

crouching behind the front row,

tapping someone on the shoulder.

 

Down in the mosh pit, they’re

having fun with the opening act.

It’s the Village Idiot, who’s trying

to rap, though his baggy pants keep

coming down.  They’re throwing

tomatoes, spinning him around,

calling him a Supporter of Evil

cause he’s always turning

the other cheek.  He’s flubbing

the National Anthem, rather badly.

 

They’re in their box seats, raising

hot spits with howls of laughter

and moist anticipation.

 

The young boys are in the green

room practicing glory chants,

but today we get to see Marvin

sacrificed by his heavenly father.