I’m not saying I used to steal music.
I know that’s a dirty thing to say nowadays,
in the twenty-first century,
kind of like,
hey, I used to follow the Dave Matthews Band
around, or
once, I hit this girl
in the face.
But dude, seriously, I used to steal music
in the best possible way.
In the ’99, on the Napster,
sucking down everything possible.
And the worst of it all, lying to my friends—
“I have this rare R.E.M. cover of ‘Thank You,
Friends,’
by Big Star, do you want it?”
And then sending “Toy Soldiers”
AIMing Martika
that’s probably a new millenium
cardinal sin.
You don’t even know
what was on there. Radio broadcasts
of Bon Scott’s death,
live New Yardbirds with Jimmy Page,
Ice Cube remixes that weren’t
on a single mix tape
in Glendale, Arizona.
We were in the glory days of the Internet
capital-I, neuromancer
we thought we could cure the world
thought we could burn out cancer.
Then we got screwed-up by religion
and we got screwed by soccer players
And I sat in a cubicle in Starkville, Mississippi
and I hit that button over and over
there was nothing ever like it
there was nothing ever like it.