Revolving Remembrance

I like to play his records
it brings him home
another one on
it’s heavy
feels like a piece of slate in my fingers
many many scratches
quick dust
- arm up
needle down
eyes fixed
heart beat
BANG! Jazz man sound
heart skip
heart pound
man... 78
now that was a speed
these gems his vice
these jewels his need

And it rolls and it rolls
a battered old car that will always start
a cool freeway
black vinyl wheels
spinning
Columbia, Parlophone, Decca
Gramaphone Co
another one on
quick dust
- arm up
needle down
ears pricked
ahh! taste that sound
and he’s home
again
the sweet guy is back
Grandad is here
not as i knew him though
well not quite
now he’s young
his face is smooth
he seems just right
his hair is dark
he dances and dreams
how young men dream
and I wonder
what he dreamt about
when he was 18
on the cusp
of adult heaven
collecting records with spare change
breathing the air of 1947

And I can see him now
all full of hope
pondering ‘what will be’
romancing big ideas
dancing with ‘the free’
pretty girls swinging arm in arm
eyes gentle
suits sharp
brown bag
shiny new
excitement pulsing
clean and true
how he must have smiled then
and would never have guessed
he would marry
and live long
take from life what is best
have a son
who would have a son
who would sit in his flat
in 2010
eyes gleaming
face laughing
digging through a box of dusty dreams
just to hear that crackle
that snap
just to hear the big band
to bring him home again