…If the world knew how
the light bulb loved the socket
then we would all be better off.
–Matthew Dickman, "Love"
− Or how the needle adores the vinyl
right all up in its groove, how the laser's crazy
for the spinning disc, and the guitar string
pulls at the pinch of the pick. How dark
chocolate slyly melts in coffee,
and darker chocolate swoons and slips
a smoky jazz ballad to a wide-lipped
glass of leggy red. How cinnamon heats
sweetly to a chile's bursting surge. Hot goes
with sauce as music gets with lover.
Serving yearns for a bowl; night desires
light. A cassette's wound tight just craving
tape. Hell − from default − figures
heaven's shape, the ground gazing
skyward 'til it bows with rain, 'til dew
reflects full spectrum. Well-rounded
is the bowl licked clean, language
a tongue taken with the art of circulation.
Rock star, star player, player piano, piano
key, key to a wholehearted heart.
Freewheeling, love learns to link, make
sense, see: Time's turned on by the material.