Misplaced Melodies

The music, I heard it just yesterday.

About 2 p.m., it snaked through the vents,

those synthesized notes by some one-hit wonder.

Then today, with the morning’s coffee,

came the reverb of metal by a perfectly-coifed hair band,

which slunk under the sofa,

where dust bunnies and lost cat toys reside.

Will tomorrow’s dinner be accompanied

by a pop-candy boy band’s jingle

from back in the day

that climbs atop the fridge,

disturbing a perfect layer of dust?

Perhaps, next week, at about 3 a.m.,

the discordant riffs of safety-pin-pierced punk

will bound onto the bed,

disrupting the knot of blankets and felines,

while I try—in vain—to sleep

through troubled nights.