LOVE AND DEATH AND AN AMERICAN GUITAR

I REMEMBER EVERYTHING!
I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday
I was barely seventeen
and I once killed a boy with a Fender electric guitar.
I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster
But I do remember that it had a heart of chrome
and a voice like a horny angel
I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster
But I do remember that it wasn't at all easy
It required the perfect combination of the right power chords
And the precise angle from which to strike.
The guitar bled for about a week afterwards
And the blood was Zulu, dark and rich
Like wild berries.
The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry Red
The guitar bled for about a week afterwards
But it rung out beautifully
And I was able to play notes that I had never even heard before.
So I took my guitar
And I smashed it against the wall
I smashed it against the floor
I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader
I smashed it against the hood of a car
I smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson
The Harley howled in pain
The guitar howled in heat
And I ran up the stairs
To my parents' bedroom
Mommy and Daddy were sleeping in the moonlight
Slowly I opened the door, creeping right up to the foot of the bed
I raised the guitar high above my head
And just as I was about to bring the guitar crashing down upon the center of the bed
My father woke up, screaming,
"Stop! Wait a minute! Stop it boy!
That's no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!"
And I said, "Goddammit, Daddy
You know I love you
But you've got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll."

-the clever one