Play On

Drunkenly we crashed through the door, crackling into your room. Your mess of a room. With your static hair on the floor dragging everything downwards.    I knew which record was on your player. I pressed play. You pressed stop. I pushed you out of the way. It was in the direction of the record you wanted or maybe you wanted to hear anything I didn't. That record would do. You pressed play. I pressed stop. It seemed to me that the game would end in silence.    There was an album we both liked but maybe you'd lost it in the mess of your room, maybe I'd lost in the mess of my flat or maybe someone else had it.    You pushed me on the bed. We played on.

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