High above all vicinity of casual eyesight,
The supermarket blares Lady Gaga from its speakers,
While carts push themselves,
And people load them in heedless rhythm.


The Laundromat plays a dreamscape Disco
That mollifies moods,
And propels tedious activities, such as folding clothes,
With small bursts of nirvana.


As I walk downtown Salem, Mass,
Late, on a Thursday night,
The bars are playing music too.
And it brings me to the thought…


Music can elicit feelings I cannot begin to describe.
I can only illustrate its symptoms.


Gooseflesh that spreads up the arms,
Head teetering, eyes that gently close.
Elations so superlative,
That when the song ends, I could too.


Music that causes your emotions to flow like rapid rivers,
Passionate in their nature to exalt great emotion.


The ability to cause mental searing.
I once drove home after grim news

I wouldn’t graduate high school.
The stereo screaming,
Instability like the outer edges of space.


Romanced ampflication; Song.
A dual rhythm of bodies in motion,
Flushed cheeks and ardent passions

That twist and burst asunder.
We relate to one another through genre.
Rap, the sharp and catchy poetry of the modern culture.
Country, where the sun goes down,
And pungent lyrics about mourning lost love, or life
howl at the moon.

The punk scene, believing in something
That isn’t religion, Government, or media.
Classic rock, the temperament of guitars,
Played like extra limbs.


Why do we love music so much,
To flail our arms in the air,
Or nods our heads
Or tap our toes…


I don’t know.
I just love to feel.


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