The Electrician's Story

Work at any job long enough,

and things change: like outlets

snaking with cords, but none of them

connected to stereos.

As a girl,

she used to haunt record shops,

bought thrift-store clothes

to save money for albums,

and if sneaking into concerts is an art,

then she was Van Gogh . . .

everyone’s sweat smell, dancing—

sunflowers, straw, burnt matches, and hunger—

the band as loud as a lid on the night,

but also your exit out of it.

She alters some currents from their circuit breaker,

sorts out all the fried wiring.

Then she gets in her truck, turns the stereo on,

and music sparks.