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Missed the Clicks and Scratches

Janet Kuypers
5/15/12


Knowing you couldn’t
get me to go downstairs

(not knowing that downstairs
is where I kept the bodies),

you suggested playing music.
With no iPod docking station,

I had to trudge upstairs and
search the rooms I’ve avoided

to find an old record player
with small speakers, all covered

in dust.

So after a rag for cleaning
and finding a handful of records,

we eventually sat on the floor
with our new-found relics, to

just listen.

And playing the records sounded...
Well, it’s hard to describe.

I hear a fullness I haven’t heard
since before my iPod earbuds

or walkman headphones.
We spend so much time

making everything smaller,
that we forget the details

when we shrink everything down
so we can cram more into

our lives.

And simply put, I missed
the clicks and scratches.

I missed the imperfections —
in our modern-day lives

we’ve done everything we could
to remove nuances, so everything

is generically the same,
and now nothing is unique.

I’ve missed the scratches
from downstairs, I’ve missed

the hiccups and skips
from a 33, a 45 or an 78.

It’s been a while since I’ve
heard those scratches,

it’s been a while since i’ve
delved into those imperfections.

At least we found this record
player so I could remind myself

of what I was missing
all this time, now forced into our

modern world.

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