Poetry Blogs (Vinyl dreams)

There’s a place where I can go and tell my secrets to… (Brian Wilson)

In a room,

a child not yet a teen,

sits full of good vibrations.

The vinyl stolen from parents

crackles with life,

static and promises of a long summer for all.

Surfboards, so alien to this coast of estuary and mudflats,

yet the glow of California dreams and girls perforates his reality.

Do i...

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