american idiot

in fifth grade i had a rock band in my head. 
they broke guitars. they stuck drumsticks
into the earth & waited for them to become trees.
my favorite song was "american idiot"
& i carried the lyric book from the cd case
so i could sing along. on the playground
everyone was starting to know their genders.
mine, still, a knot of distortion pedal dreams.
i spent as much time as i could alone. in my bedroom
i would open a little door in the back of my head
& let the band out. they would rehearse 
as loud as they could but it was only the volume
of chattering flies. lady bugs lived
in the walls & they would come out 
to watch. the band was insect size. small. smaller even
than me. i would hum along with them.
bring them sunflower seeds & cookies to eat.
on a good afternoon, i would offer my own lyrics.
usually they were about death or birds. 
the band loved my ideas. they whipped their
long black hair around. they had tattoos.
i would draw in sharpie on my arms to mirror them.
a lyric from my elbow to my wrist. at school
the teachers would tell me i was going to poison myself
but i didn't really care. i can't remember 
the last time i let the band out to rehearse. 
it was probably in the summer. maybe the summer
before high school. in the sticky heat
of my room, i must have watched them. they did not know
it was out last time & i think neither did i.
the thing about rage is that as you get older
it does not wither, but thickens. becomes 
a syrup. i eat spoonful after spoonful. let the band play.
let them do their shows for my irises. 
a little stage where a song can hold everything i need it to.
i remember when i made the mistake of singing
"american idiot" aloud around the wrong teacher.
she confiscated the lyric book but it was too late
i already had it memorized.