Beth Feldman Brandt

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POEMS from RetroLove

 

Investigations: RetroLove | Sage | Bartram's Boxes Remix
 

RetroLove: The Song

When it spilled from the dashboard as we drove
to the shore in my yellow Oldsmobile with the top down
and then again from the dial-tuned 77WABC, transistor radio
on our blanket on the sand at Jones Beach,
we figured Cousin Brucie was sending us a sign --
and we spun that tune from the black vinyl LP
held tenderly by the edges, dropped the needle again
and again, so we could slow dance when we were together
and sigh when we were apart until the groove wore down
into a stutter skip right before the second chorus
which made it, irreplaceably, ours, and now Cousin Brucie
is pushing 80, and the tune has gone digital, its underlying
hiss erased, but still when I hear it, I wait for the stutter,
the way my heart still skips at the first notes of us.

 

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