Rock 'n' Roll Fantasies

I wrote this poem several years ago after watching our guitar teacher and friend perform with his then-band Berkobin and Corson. He is the guitar player to the front right in the video of Incision in my previous post "Play that funky music." This is now a tribute to our friend, who died much too young on Feb. 5, 2015, although the aging rocker wannabe is not him, but the band's leader. Rock on, Mike.Swirling like a dervish without religion,he lives out fantasiesin a former roller rink, turned church, turned recording studioidentified on a sign outside as Abundant Life. The aging rocker wannabe,mortgage mogul by day,dons colorful scarves, bandanas, skinny jeans,black eyeliner and penciled-on mustaches by night. Twirling a shawl over his hair and shouldersas sweat rolls down his face,he channels a gothic Little Red Riding Hood,then crawls and convulses across the floor like Gollum. The band promotes itself online,claims "a new era of epic proportion."Young musicians recruited to front dreamscan't mask music that sounds like hallucinations of the ‘70s. The polished concrete shell of an emptyhouse of worship again vibrates with fervor.Musicians are paid, fantasies fulfilledwith an abundance of rock 'n' roll.