June 7, 2016


Hull of old memories, 

Bee-bops and slow dances,

Soda shop sundaes 

After school – You

Dj’d them all.

With a quarter

And the push of some buttons,

Records dropped

45 RPM and the long arm

Lowered itself onto each

Grove like a gentle 

Lover. Scratched

The melancholy moods

And soft air.

Where is the graveyard of those

Records now?  Melted ashtrays,

Art on diner walls, 

Skeet targets. 

Digital music – so pure

And perfect, convenient.

But never as romantic

As standing arm and arm above

The Wurlitzer choosing your favorite song.

This is Poem #90 from the  Poem (almost) Everyday Project. Starting in mid-January 2016, I decided for one year to wake mornings and write a poem before my first cup of coffee on each day that I didn’t teach. I was working part-time then, so in the end I wrote 241 poems.  These are second drafts of  those pieces copied directly from my journal with minimal editing from their “vomit draft” state.