side A or B

(four clicks)
the needle scraps and ingrains
visions of kids in Brooklyn
singing about girls.
a vibrating pulse on my hip,
of a love
too patiently young to
ever develop
distracts me while
the room fills with strangers,
hip airheads
lost in denim.
kissing each other
with words they read
in books written for
a different generation.

"do u wanna meet up?"


i find myself
one with
the dullness
of the bass,
though
each note
kicks me
in the chest,
a little harder.
a part of me
is dancing
while a part of
me is gone,
looking around
somewhere where
things get stuck in my head
like her
freckled nose or
a song about it.
sitting on the bed,
everyone just talks about the bigger city.
"ya know,
Ginsberg was that kid once
on the Lower East Side"
writing in the rain,
it's a world away from
getting stoned
in the midwest,
right?

"yeah, maybe some other time..."