Skip the Old Junk, Listen to Good Music.

Even if you find it under your nails,
dirty and scraped off some muddy floor
you lay on, crushed by the rainy day

Or by the carelessness of all
who walk across your face.

Even if it clings to your heels
from leftover static electricity

And runs down your cheeks

And crawls along your back

And they call it ugly

And it looks ridiculous to you

Hold it close, tenderly

wink at it, offhandedly

to your shrinking freedom.