There it is again
Love’s twang. The electric burst from Stevie Ray Vaughn’s Stratocaster. Or the resin rich cello, as Yo-Yo Ma draws his bow. An infinitesimal dip, and here we are again. Warm honey. Cupid was no fool, the arrow’s chest shot, and I’m returned. A flush kid from Virginia. New license in my pocket. One hand on the wheel, the other nested in your lap. Night unfurls us, all four windows rolled down.
Each peg tunes for you. Even whole years after the club’s been closed. Your brown eyes, narrow fingers walk the fretboard, the amp crackles on. All the sinew and dreams we crushed. Dark blooms. The welts of loss make us ache. Maybe the end is near. Or maybe after this rest, an adagio. Or tender acoustic riff. Our shoes still tap, and scuff-up the floor.
Seth Rosenbloom is a poet, and he consults with companies on leadership and management. His poems have appeared in Evening Street Review, Hawai’i Pacific Review, Sheila-Na-Gig online, ONE ART and other publications. Seth grew up in Virginia and lives in Seattle.