The lovers dip and dance
their faces parallel in infatuation.
Smitten, they swirl across the floor
under the dusty yellow light of memory.
The song is Roy Orbison’s “In Dreams.”
The melodies are logical, the harmonies pleasing.
Like humans seen at a distance that upon examination
reveal themselves to be plastic figurines
The relentless upbeat of the music gives way
to the voice, trembling as if tears have lodged there.
What seems to be a quaver
is not a quaver, it is merely song
hesitating over emotion.
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