Reuinon

I was a tree that was turned
into plywood, IKEA furniture
glued to the floor of a room
without windows, predictable
elevator music, the elevator
was called idle, able maybe
but very strictly forbidden
to move

then I listened to Pavement
knew that I should be again
a rain forest

the singer's voice like an
not angel, rather engine
of a van taking me far away
the guitars asking questions
instead of pretending

I was a plywood teenager
dreaming of a Pavement
reunion, imaginging being
on a concert, coming backstage
sitting in the backseat
of their tour bus, around
the world and no more glue

a rainy day many years later
Pavement came to Stockholm

the dream that I dreamed
was about ten percent
as amazing as reality

I was in front row, reaching
for a setlist from the hand
of the basist, and got it

after the concert I walked back home
backstage did not allure me anymore
not because the band had turned old
not becuase they had turned gray
not because the band had changed
but because my life had turned great