A two row button accordion
August night, the bellows
stretched all the way out
across the bed, fingers
dancing, hips swaying,
the surprise of improvised music
moaning and swanky, leading
to this place, where the past melts
into grooves of profound present
sounds, a pleasure no one expected
to hear so soon.
Sweat, skin,
Sweat, skin,
the pump of an organ. We busy
our life and touch moments
like this for respite, for memories,
in the middle of an unmusical day.
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