Friday night. Lights down low. Nobody’s Left for the door. One slow draw. Smoke unwinds. Through the room Like borrowed time. Ice cracks once Against the glass. Every spine Straightens up. Drop the needle. Tiny click… Mid-sentence Left in air. One more turn… Don’t look yet… You can feel it… Coming next… Skip— Right on cue. Miss one beat. Then back to you. They don’t need Every word. Just the part That can’t be heard. Moving slow… Then letting go… The body finds What the mind won’t own. Turn it louder. Leave it rough. Every scar Earned our love. She steps out. Crowd makes room. Something opens In the groove. Nobody Called the floor. Feet already Knew the score. Three a.m. Still feels like ten. Time forgot To call it in. I stopped reaching For the crowd. Put the needle down And wait. Perfect mix… Perfect room… Perfect sound… Nothing moves… Take away The little flaws… Take away The beautiful wrong… Skip— Right on cue. Miss one beat. Then back to you. Smoke still threads The empty chairs. Feet still finding The skip out there. Needle turning Round and round. Little flaws Built this sound. Morning comes… Lights grow thin… The record stops… The skip remains…
