On a rainy Sunday In November

I've been neglecting the things
in my head
been distracted by
idiots
and
politicians
and
bad news
and bad media
and
did I mention idiots
all the bad vibes of  distracty stuff
songs on the stereo
with pops and scratches
used to make me smile
turntables
Nova 16 headphones from the Radio shack
Thin Man movies and
Spencer Tracy looking for Mickey Rooney
somewhere between Saturday Morning Cartoons and
The Credence Clearwater Revival
there are a myriad of uncomplicated
idiotsynchronicities
and Harmonic conversions through crisis of facts
that led to this road trip to distraction
like blipverts and inarticulate infomercials
projected on the big scheen
slow motion replays of
pissing contests on a windy day
whatever happened to building snowmen
Charlie Brown Thanksgivings
Knowing all the words to stupid songs
cherished things
lost or crushed or freed into the wild
and it could be a matter of perspective
or that I'm getting older
or maybe my soul is out of joint
I'm still holding this faulty umbrella
I'm still singing in the rain with Gene and Debbie
it's just that the songs are funeral bleak
and the introspection is killing me