Sitting in our small living room,
The first place I ever lived
That was truly my own,
Stoned and high on acid
Our weekly chill and trip,
Cummings put this on,
An album “borrowed” from his sister,
And then the music took me,
I could dance (such as it is),
Always a favorite
Played and replayed over the years
Until one day
I heard a familiar tune,
Hummed from the back seat,
A teen idly pass time,
She didn’t know, yet she knew,
A familiar, ingrained tune
An offense to gothic sensibilities,
All my fault,
And pleasure.
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