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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=544464" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Air Guitar</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=544464" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">for Tad</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=544464" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now that the radiance of day<br>has been sucked into the hole<br>beyond those distant hills, <br>I am lying alone and listening, <br>hands clasped behind my head, <br>staring at the ceiling.<br>I take up the guitar, <br>on which I am a virtuoso, <br>and take a bottle-neck slide riff<br>for Bonnie, a bass-line tumble <br>for Flea. Eric, you're the man, <br>but you concentrate on the lyrics, <br>I'll rip on this solo. Neil, <br>you cajole the crowd, <br>I'll strike the thunderous chords, <br>the cacophonic feedback. Hey hey<br>my my, listen to me tear up<br>this thirty-two bar, one note solo.<br>Sit down here, Keith, and smoke<br>that cigarette. Looks like you<br>need a break. I'll take this one<br>for you. Just sit and watch Mick prance.<br>When I'm winded and had enough, <br>I put down my guitar, <br>out of mind, wipe the sweat<br>from my forehead and neck, <br>stand in the hall outside<br>your closed bedroom door<br>and just listen to you play, <br>not wanting to take the guitar from your hands.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Thomas+Meade">Thomas Meade</a></strong></div>