match

i had blatantly ignored the tv crawl
and web alert: severe thunderstorm warning...
so when the power falters and finally dies
between keystrokes and lightning strikes,
it's only half a surprise.

from my pocket i fish out my blue led flash
to seek a half-used candle and a matchbook.
after a few tries, i light the wick.
but between the strobes and thunderclaps
the sulphur dioxide makes my memory click:

i awake to the odor of a just-struck match.
in the darkness a red spot is swaying
moving, pausing, glowing, moving back.
between this and the amplifier tubes
the room is unlit, but a record is playing.

i shift in my chair as the tune fades away.
i hear the thumping heart:
"there is no dark side of the moon, really,"
between the lub-dubs in the night,
"actually, it's all dark..."

then i hear the stylus snap, crackle and pop
and a final thump. i hear the tone arm rise.
in a moment, a soft click, the turntable stops.
but between you and me and the wall,
it's only half a surprise.

*** next | singularity

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