Descend and Decrease

 

My fingers are moving through records

In a shop that smells of cardboard and authenticity

It is your birthday, soon

And you do vinyl now

Not in a hipstery, flamboyant sort of way

But with a quiet, gentle hum of joy

At the quirky out-of-time-magic

Of these wobbly playthings

From before you were born

And so I’m here, fingertips dancing

Through the thin, firm, colourful sleeves

Of a thousand LPs

A kind of muscle memory 

As they find 

Their rhythm

Separating

Excavating

Decades of faded 

Photos 

And paintings

And logos 

And faces

A flickering stop frame animation

Moving me back in time

Back to when these hands were smaller

Softer, more hesitant

Back when these sacred stones were new

Mysterious giants

Totems of wonder

Unknowable in depth

And number

I pull back, emerge

Try to take something of that distance

Of that strangeness

Out of my past

Into your hands

Onto your turntable

Set spinning while we pour wine

Into goblets, and laugh

And pretty much ignore the music

As we shift out of focus

As the record revolves

As its circles descend and 

It’s circles decrease

Dark secrets cut 

Into bright black grooves

Crackle

And release

And descend and

Decrease and

Descend and

Decrease

Infinite patterns of sound

Descend and 

Decrease and

Descend and

Decrease

Concentric spirals retreat

Descend and

Decrease and

Descend and

Decrease and

Descend and

Decrease and

Descend and

Decrease and

Descend and