Low Fidelity Romance

I.

the mysteries of time
echoing through spaces
built for people to walk through:

hallways with linoleum floors
causeways over flat waters
and the ruins of temples
still intact with stony surfaces

you can hear the music
when the needle hits the record
with no amplification
scraping the grooves

the bent-over ear
absorbing the sounds
walks into crowded spaces

pieces of conversations
chipped off the walls

they all say two things:

I could have done more
and you could have too

there is no love without movement
I learned while watching sleep
overtake her into late morning

so much she wanted to do but couldn't
because it was right at her fingertips
and she was reaching for the stars

she learned to do this from a gypsy tribe
travelling on the margins of city squares
singing songs far beyond their poverty

she learned this from her mother
pacing behind her echoing the echoes
that filled the house to capacity

it is impossible to sing in this environment
when the air sucked out of your lungs

the needle plodding along
plays tunes that can be heard
if you kneel

it is quiet and distorted
just as we all are

like stars shimmering
against the misty horizon

II.

I have learned
to place my ear
to the stars