“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.
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