Son of a Bitch, by Stuart Gunter
Posted on September 18, 2019
For Mark Goldstein
Nazareth’s Hair of the Dog plays on
an endless loop in my tinnitus-wild
ears these days. A reflection of how
I currently see myself. It’s not
a question of metaphysics, or where
I land on the time-space continuum
(or is it?) but a darker reckoning,
blooming from a conversation
about a motorcyclist growing older
faster or slower than we did as he
barreled down the road ahead,
popping a wheelie as he passed,
weaving in between two trucks
down the center line. He might be,
until he crashes, I thought. Later,
when pressed for my opinion on
his sloppy watered-down version
of a guitar solo, he accused me
of being a dick when I said
it was sloppy and inappropriate
and if he wanted to pull that shit
at a gig, he better go home and practice.