Music that I miss
are those that you cannot, for the life of you, get the lyrics right because
there was nowhere to read them from
Only in Songhits and music sheets
which later became the Multiplex mini book with size 6 font but it didn’t matter
because our eyes were sharp and
eventually, yes, the Karaoke with a screen that renders your childhood TV set
with its two-door and knob antique in its former magnificence.
The ones that whisper your secrets and declare your existential thoughts
The ones that you sang with me
And the ones that we changed the lyrics to
And the ones that we sat in silence with
as the invisible beat throbbed through looks across the room
and the swaying of the bodies to the rhythm
of the head and glass shots banging more than the drums
and the silent mornings when a groan from a hangover and a sigh are much more
than any love song can ever promise.
The ones that don’t sound good unless you crank it up and scream.
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