mamma said

you put the 45 onto
the turn table
after wiping off fifty
years
of dust and cobwebs.
your stack of wax is still
in a box
labeled
45's.
elvis, beatles. the four
tops
and the troggs.
but this record you need
to hear
again,
over and over.
mamma said there'd be
days like
this. you kick
back
with a bottle of tab
and some
fritos,
slip on your chuck
taylor's
and sing along.
you know all the words.