whole lotta love

the scratched record,
led
zeppelin,
a whole lotta love,
skips
at a certain point
and you have
to get up
to lift the needle
to push it
forward.
your mother stamps
on the floor, yells
through the vent to
turn it down.
the room is full of smoke,
a casement window
cracked open,
beer cans,
shoes are off,
everyone is in state of
utter disarray,
and comfort.
there is no tomorrow.
not for perry, or axe,
or jim,
or henry, or
dana. this is the life
they will stay in.
somehow you
escaped.
you still have the album
pinned to your
wall, but they're
gone.