Scott SimpsonSongs, Poems, Stories.

Scott Simpson · Poetry

Sheet-Rockers

Uncollected Poems

Selected Poems 1989 to 2009 · source pages 297, 298, 299

All poetry

The original line breaks, stanza spacing, and placement are preserved. Long lines scroll horizontally.

Source page 297

Sheet-Rockers

They're a different breed,

those rockers

everyone tells me

most rolling their eyes,

I wouldn't want to make my living

that way

and when they came

in their red van

with their stilts

and plaster-caked boom-box

I was taken

by the rhythm of the cordless drills

zipping a reckless syncopation

Far above me

they press their heads

like powdered wigs

against a 4 X 12 drywall sheet

Line her up,

Get her in line, dammit!

and zip zip zip

the screws sink into

hidden studs

on 24 inch centers

The Oldies station croons

from the hallway then rocks

with a Motown standard

as they accelerate

the screwing the cussing

zip zip dammit zip

damn zip-a damn damn

But today while I was in the basement all

hell broke loose on the main floor:

the secret rituals

of their brotherhood

Everything stopped

when the voice of Elvis

came crackling through the

plastered speakers

Don't be cruel

to a heart that's true

and suddenly a dance of stilts

Source page 298

in perfect rhythm thundered

over the floor above

and a zipping of drills

joined, keeping time

while five crusty baritone voices

commandeered the chorus

Don't be cruel

to a heart that's true in

five different keys

The magic of balance the

mystery of screws

zipping into hidden studs

like well-placed notes

and they were serenading wives

girlfriends

pledging fidelity

love in a lurching choreography as

graceful as rockers could be

I wanted to race up the stairs

to stand among giants

but what I saw in my mind

felt pounding through the 2 X 6 walls

would be shattered if I

were to intrude

As they left

I muttered See you!

They said nothing

but folded themselves

and their tools back

into their red van

and drove away

but I tell you

I've heard them

felt the grind of every screw

into every stud

seen them, dusted and spent

return to houses, mobile homes,

apartments

wives, girlfriends, lovers

The handwriting's in the walls—

a blessing on my house

and the admonition of the rockers:

Source page 299

Don't be cruel

Don't be cruel Don't be cruel

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