Four dollars found in dug pockets,
the push of brooms, christmas cards,
crossed the counter a few days after
high school released him from it’s grip.

He played the songs on repeat,
the ones he knew she loved,
in preperation for this day
and played them again

for a slanted mic, under-paid
technician audience. The years
ahead were barely a glint,
the only fan, his mum

and this record, his gift, the only
thing she wanted, the thing
that would drive collectors
to auctions & garage sales

a priceless thing, happiness and
heartache in it’s grooves,
a love, a dedication, a simple time
before the madness began.