Somebody Said the Riffs Sounded Like Metal,

you know I wanted to know which one, the bridges are all made of metal out here, the
diners are still chrome-plated-affairs, a silver lunch box you could almost pick up and
carry on your way home but instead you fit yourself inside of its dents, bulky, heavy
metal, you just went for the leather jacket, you know I flung myself through that metal
that was so heavy, no not mental, but metal, I flew threw(ough) the Blue Sky Diner,
right through Sunnyside's train yards, so high I saw both the trees and trains, the tops
of the semitrucks that squish through skinny streets with not metal but bricks beneath
the surface, you know it was all one and the same, unironic heavy metal, you know
there is such a thing, I hate to have to say it this way, you know under the bridge near
Skillman High School is the best place for a heavy metal concert next to the metal
Queensboro Bridge, next to the Blue Sky Diner flying in the sky, adjacent to Sky Line
Auto and landing for a beer with a splash at the Fire Water Inn - you know you're on
fire, in the water, and the metal, hot, dunked into it, sizzles - yeah, I know you said the
riffs sounded like metal, I know exactly which ones, which dented sides the notes
screeched to and fro to, over and over, a riff engaged in a tiff of metal, the most perfect
sound, perfect sound of all