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They made a patchwork pattern
of magenta, turquoise and daffodil
rectangles, taped on the inside
of a bar’s street-side window.
The colors of paper commonly
used by photocopy centers.
I imagine there are at least
a hundred identical copies
flying all over the city.
On bus stops and lampposts,
on windshields and the loops
on wrought iron fences.
Each bearing a name
agonized over for many days
by the members of the band,
trying to round up their identity
and the message of their music
in four words or less,
printed in bold, slightly edgy letters
with maybe a creative portrait
of the aspiring musicians
in the background,
looking at you
or looking off the distance

where they are maybe dreaming
of Grammys and world tours
sold-out concert halls
and platinum discs
mounted on their walls
their hit song becoming an anthem
for an entire generation
and maybe even a spread
on Rolling Stone
because they’re pretty awesome
and they have the spark
and are willing to stand together
in a cold alley by the bar’s back door
hugging their instruments
listening to their inner cues
while waiting for their turn
to play for the Thursday night crowd
at this establishment that agreed
to give them a spot at the window
and one shot to show
the world what they got.

“Subterranean” by photographer C McSheridan


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