“Say I love what I've become” – Chicopee Dudley
Sad to say my music collecting days are passed.
I still have the memory of every favorite album
where the drink was spilled, where the vinyl skips.
I still have the albums with the smoky riffs.
Here, urge the backbeat rhythms, fall in love with us again.
The guitar riffs like whiskey … go on, have another.
Books too: say I still love the books, the words
and the silences between them,
the books in boxes waiting again to be read.
Say I love the stars and the black of midnight,
where the books and albums are unheard, unread
and recalled in the darkness: fall in love with us again.
I breathe what’s left back to the world.
Speak the bluesman’s tongue, sweat the writer’s meaning
from my blood, say I love what I’ve become.