SPEAKERS
Two wooden boxes sit
four feet in front of me,
"Quadraflex" printed on the front.
They're 30 years old,
from my father's past,
and still working.
They started out on
Eric Burdon and (shudder) Bruce Springsteen.
Then he fed them classical and jazz.
After a while,
they weren't his anymore,
and they played punk, and awful hardcore.
They sat in the garage for two years,
getting covered by strange
hair and dust.
Now I have them.
I replaced their veins,
took off their skin of dirt.
They give me Foo Fighters,
Unsteady, They Might Be Giants.
The words and sounds
and even noise
of two generations
all came from the very same mouth.