Pops and clicks; I’m enveloped
My ears begin their quenching
As the disc is spinning, whirling
Dust is coughed up from the
Rusty gears and churning
Sounds from those golden days
Sharp spinning pastel umbrellas
Smiles under a tightly worn sunhat
The spitting of 4-wheeled exhausts
But we, but we
Are safely prancing about together
On toes, on heel, on flats
Dancing with Knight, the Tops
Switching classically to settle
Our bodies aching to touch
The static that bellows
From the Timmons screams
The songs where we shed
What is holding our skins, hidden
And come time to turn to Side B,
Let the arm swing away, silently
And begin our switch with mumble
Humming from our longing tongues

06/16/2009

Author's Note: I seem to be enjoying my new record player a little too much.

Posted on 06/17/2009
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