They sold the radio station
a little more than a week ago,
switched to Christmas music,
and in another week
will reformat to soft jazz.
It's a goddam crime.
I'm not just considering myself.
I'll get my rock-n-roll fix.
Worry not for me, but for the poor
displaced DJ's mourning
the slow demise of rock radio.
I can see them in small rooms
beneath tattered Ramones or
Pink Floyd posters, stubbing out
generic cigarettes while the HiFi
loops the latest by the Black Keys.
Fear not, sullen DJ's, they buried
our station. I cannot find
the Chili Peppers anywhere on the dial,
but I won't plan the funeral yet.
It may be underground, but it ain't dead.
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