living room record player

I'm six on the living room floor -

the pink album the pink album I chant -

dad puts the Supremes on the record player, the jacket handed to me -

pink, with three of the most beautiful women I've ever seen -

I stare at them while their record plays. I forget to turn it over.

The record player goes gritty and silent.

I'm ten on the living room floor - 

the record player turned on low, only a hum -

dad is strumming that one song on guitar about firewood -

my sister is singing along, her voice the first perfect thing I've ever heard -

I stare at them while they sing. I forget to ask them to keep going.

Our house darkens again. 

I'm sixteen on the living room floor -

four friends scattered about for a birthday -

dad is taking videos of us singing, out of key off pitch -

the record player blasts Red Wine Supernova while we chant together -

I stare at them while we sing. I remember to ask them to stay.

It's loud and bright. We fall asleep on the floor.