This is part of a larger work in progress.
I
The record store clerk me flitting the crowded tiled aisles on light feet higher than high
Finding that sound for you, that hidden track or unknown album,
That one you didn’t even know you wanted, I’ll find it just for you. And you’ll love me
Forever. You’ll ask me for more, like a junky needing another fix right now,
You’ll come back to satiate your flavor desire, come back and look for me to tune you
In and turn you on again with another jewel, another shiny bright song,
That rare find, you’ll think of me every time, a diamond in the rough the cliché you’ll
Mine from your fogged and clouded and disrupted alcoholic mind.
Tripping up Washington Avenue from blocks south finding our lights pulling you in,
That soft neon, blood pulsing, infused with ecstasy and buckets of caffeine.
A cornucopia of colored smells, a cacophony of beats, accents, and the register’s bell,
The conversations of commerce sparkling everywhere, all of it one torso
Barely clad, covered in body glitter and tattoos mapping garrulous nights of spirited
Struggle with decisions about when to stop this falling and when to let go.
