blipping vinyl

crackle pops on the smooth oil slick of a circle -
gallowed grooves engrave the sphere shape of its flow

and on unkempt soil i grew me -
(in a cyclical fashion mind you)

so here i am
so sliding -
coping
coaxing
finding - composure
in the past joy of a sound.

and in the coatings of coping,
this noise bleeds right on through me

i'm reminded of her -
too unseen to know why
she can never remember to look after even her most prized possessions

and as the record pops -
i'm lost and forgot.

choking on hoping to be seen -