Vinyls

I lie

In vacant satin sheets,

when he is gone,

into the crowds

who turn his vinyl wheel.

Sounds break

as mind’s eye turns

into a new road,

sees my hand in his,

leading,

guiding,

pacing the city,

as the train

in its rhythm

displays myriad passengers

looking to the sky.

Dressed in black,

he takes me

by the hand, to the park

where children watch the ducks

and I him,

at water’s edge,

his face caught in the Spanish sun,

a hand rising

loosing a stone

which strikes

breaks the water,

sinks

to the river-bed

where I pass day and night

with no need of words.