Juke Joint

Measurable volume empty space

Sun has risen, hours passed

Since the last few patrons laughed then left

Distinctive timber presence remain

Juke joint slumber, eerie din

Kept captive and alive within somehow

Stand still listen in

ghostly relics, remnants’ hiss

Let the stereo-cilia be kissed to see

Amazing echoes juke box spins

refusing decay, reverberations

Of spilt celebrations over the years

Smokers exhalations cloud

poltergeist lung, sinister haunt

Not to taunt but to mimic past joys

Empty container half full

Dance floor, porous cache

Reminiscent stash to where routine escaped.

Paul Summers is a non-traditional student working on his BA. He is the father of a blended family of three. He is an addict in recovery with 11 years clean and sober.

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