She walked out from the cover of a record
I had borrowed
from a friend who never told me
that the second track would not play
and she followed me around as if I was
the latest film star
only stopping at the five and dime to buy
some eye mascara, as if trading places with
a dream could make her seem more tangible.

She spun across onto side two for better
conversation
but the music drowned her words out and
she
hesitated to say so,
when the batteries in the Dansette failed and everything
went slowly but
her motion was detected by the stylus on the pick up and
it scratched her marble face and I could see the blood begin
to well up
like the tears that fell
I fell in love
with her.