Tracking the grooves on an old 45,
Or an old 33 and a third,
Tracking the grooves on a cool stack of vinyl,
The pops and hiss I once heard.
Tracking the grooves, am I showing my age?
It's back to the days of romance,
Record players and gramophones,
And ill fated attempts to slow dance.
I love my digital library and i love my compact discs,
In love with the ease of the click of a mouse,
Makes me feel like a Power Ranger,
Loading three CDs at once
On my illustrious CD changer.
Yet I'm tracking the grooves of my brain's gray matter,
As the substantial nigra sheds its casing,
No more need to dissemble or flatter,
Or to the past go chasing.
The days are gone or never were,
When I could bust a move.
I've nothing left to show you
And little left to prove.
Still I'm tracking the grooves
Of the Solid Gold dancers
And their nostalgic interpretive skills.
The vocal prowess of Dionne Warwick,
Which delighted me and thrilled.
Just climb aboard the Midnight Special,
Everyone's invited there,
Let your hair down for a song,
Assuage away your cares.
If you're really up for a late night berth,
Come join Kirshner's rock concert.
Music played and the genres blurred,
And you could understand the words.
Tracking the grooves to Dick Clark's bandstand.
And Don Cornelius' Soul Train,
That spread their gospel of musical love,
Lifting the heart out of pain.
Everyone's invited there,
Let your hair down for a song,
Assuage away your cares.
If you're really up for a late night berth,
Come join Kirshner's rock concert.
Music played and the genres blurred,
And you could understand the words.
Tracking the grooves to Dick Clark's bandstand.
And Don Cornelius' Soul Train,
That spread their gospel of musical love,
Lifting the heart out of pain.
Tracking my memories, looking backward,
Although it's a bit of a blur,
I'd rather spend days not as they are,
But the way that I wish they still were.
Tracking the grooves to Casey Kasem,
And his legendary counting,
With a hiss and a pop, it was straight to the top,
The pomp and excitement mounting.
Until we reached the number one song
Compelled to tap or sing along.
Alas my days of singing are through
Casey's days of counting are done,
But I still have such sweet memories,
Reliving them such fun.
Tracking the grooves on an old 45,
My parents' Elvis records a cool 78,
Swinging hips on the Sullivan show,
It all just proves i was born too late.
Let's spend some time together,
God forbid we spend the night.
Tracking the grooves of a lover's flesh,
Until the stroke of midnight.
-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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