Turntable

In the attic, I saw an old crate
Peeking through the wooden case
Is a plinth of red oak
Curious
I took it downstairs
Placed it on a granite table
Unboxed my humble find
Inside was a golden record
I plugged the thing
Placed the vinyl
On the silver platter
Turned the motor on
And let the cartridge dance

And no sound came out.

Advertisements

Drive Till The Gas Tank Hits Empty

Zero. Ten. Twenty. Thirty
Wood and leather, grip’s tightenin’
Forty. Fifty. Sixty. Seventy.
Light streaking, wind’s blowin’
Eighty, Ninety, Hundr’d
Road signs blur, engine’s roarin’
Hundr’d Ten, Hundr’d Twenty. Hundr’d Thirty
Road narrows, steering wheel’s rattlin’
Hundr’d Forty
Thrill’s gone, maniac howlin’
Hundr’d Fifty
Inhibitions lost, ride’s slippin’
Hundr’d Sixty. Zero

Homecoming

Oh dear muse
I wish you were here with me
So that we could watch
The sunrise together

Oh dear muse
I wish I could hold your hand
Sing you love songs
While we’re staring at the stars

Oh dear muse
How I wish we could share
A humble dinner together
A couple of rolls and roast

Oh dear muse
I wish you knew how much
I long for you
Please, come back.