11/22/08
Haven’t seen a record played in years
Remember the way it spun round and round
Quivering minutely
Elegant and iridescent
Like a tuxedo
Only flat and round
With a hole through it
Unhurried
Unperturbed
But courting disaster at every turn
Like Caruso with a gun to his head
A tragic scratch or a dust mote
Pointed at his head all shiny with bear grease
As he hits the high impossible note
And the arm of the thing
The bony index finger of a patient crone
Tracing the groove forever and ever
Or maybe for the last time
Arcing tenderly toward the center
Inexorable
Or suddenly sometimes
Like an idiot
Repeating himself again and again and again
Until someone has to get up and fix it, with a sigh
That could also be a prayer of thanks for
Imperfection
3 comments:
I love "The Record Player". Thanks for sharing it with another who fondly remembers getting up to nudge the bony finger out of its firmly established groove (sometimes over and over, again).
David, I loved reading your blog, you are indeed an articulate and interesting writer. Yet another talent.
Miss you - Rose-Marie xx
David - this is great! I am a confirmed frugalista. Keep it coming. Can I send this to other people I know?
Sarah
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