Polyvinyl Chloride
I love the way you hold that record
Like it’s the most precious thing on earth
Like the words will fall from the songs
And the melodies will escape, and float into space;
Simply dissipate, should you let go
I love the way you place the needle so tenderly
As the vinyl spins like your earth on its axis
As if a single scratch would violate the authenticity of the sound
That fills the air you breathe;
And you close your eyes for just a moment too long
I love the way the music creeps inside of you
Lighting a flame and turning up the gas
Until your shoulders relax and your jaw unclenches
And we’re dancing to Fleetwood Mac with bare feet on tile
Wishing time would stand still
A Lost Friendship
The sun sets on the far side of the town
Shadows of nets across the inks
Wheels on gravel toward the graveyard
Killing time, bored of youth
Thoughts in sync
The three of us, one crisp breath in the air
Our nightly ritual
We took turns with the radio
Your tunes were shite mate, let’s be honest
but they made us laugh
As we puffed and passed and took a drive
Beside cows that wandered through the forest
And hillsides that showed us different things
I was in the city when she told me
Serving pints to strangers, anonymous
She has a kid now, nearly the age we were then
No time to think of anything but winter
You are still there, on those familiar hillsides
Blowing smoke
Missed Opportunies
Every so often when a blue moon shines,
opportunities come around.
We don’t see them coming until they’re staring us down; A Clockwork Orange.
We can make the decision to grab on,
Feel the fear and do it anyway,
and get swept into what comes next with childish abandon and the courage to make it work.
Or, we can watch that moment slide past,
our rationalities making sense to no one but ourselves.
Trepidation masquerades as logic,
and we deprive ourselves of what we can truly achieve on the basis of
not fucking it up.
But if you never try,
And you let your life-changing moment become someone else’s joy,
didn’t you already f*ck up?