Bad Newz

(Alec Soth: "Kenny and Bill—Bad Newz, Grand Rapids, Minnesota") They tilt their guitars and stare. Each boy puts one foot toward Us, one where a trailing wire Would run to an amplifier If amplifiers were there. Bill's Gibson glitters like ore. Kenny's Iba ñ ez hoards White noise in its black fretboard. Bill's double chin shows. Is it fair To mention his pudge? Kenny's hair Gets stuck behind one ear. Each of the brothers wears A T-shirt, loose jeans, and a pair Of bruised high-tops. A pear- Shaped garbage bag hugs a steel bar. The big rectangular blur Behind them looks like the door To a walk-in refrigerator. Maybe dad is a restaurateur, A diner owner who requires Kenny to spend six hours A week moving cases of beer, While Bill chops potatoes, or scours Grease from the checkerboard floor. Bill imagines a national tour: CBGB's. The Black Cat. Hardcore. Or metal: the glow and allure Of arenas and open-air Pyrotechnics at dusk, a chauffeur. Or do they hope modestly for Sideman jobs, L.A. 'burbs, the secure Work of studio engineers? Two boys hold two guitars In a basement kitchen, and care What you think of them. Next year They promise to practice more. Right now their repertoire Is six songs, seven chords, Five originals, and a spare Reworking of REM's four- Minute anthem about a lost car: "Can't Get There from Here."