For Jonathan Gorrie, by Robert Schreur

For Jonathan Gorrie, Not Fade Away

When I moved away he wondered why
I would unload all those LP's on him.
Um, I said, they're heavy? And you're
next door? But really it was the 50's car
he'd somehow parallel park on Union Ave.,
his pork pie hats, and Lambs Eat Ivy,* his
crooked smirk, Charlotte's cat eye glasses.
Who else should have those vinyl Dylans
and Bowies and Tinklers and Herman's Hermits
and Screamin' Jay Hawkins's? Who else
but you, Jonathan? to play loud and long,
the needle popping in the dusty grooves?

______

*Heads bowed in reverence.