An alien breakbeat
slithers from the door
of a dorm room down the hall
riding plumes of dubby reverb
like clouds on the tongue.
Languid loops, turntable scratches,
skittery jazz samples,
atop a subterranean boom.
I peek in & find a girl sitting
in the dark on the floor –
she spins around & squints
at my frame silhouetted in the door
& coolly offers the joint
pinched between her pointer & thumb.
It’s everything I expect college to be
only I don’t belong here –
I’m just visiting,
negotiating space
on Dave’s couch with a pitbull
when a TV set soars past the window
crashing in the alley below
but I don’t watch TV anymore –
finally, life is more interesting.
Back home in New York
I dig through crates on St. Marks
for that record with the breakbeats
like if I succeed I could press memory
like wax into my brain
but instead I spend four years
spinning in place –
Sal Bardo is a Los Angeles-based poet, journalist, and award-winning screenwriter. His poetry has appeared in Impossible Archetype, Stirring, and Rising Phoenix, among others. Sal began writing poetry as a teen and won several awards for his early work, including a contest judged by queer folk icon Ani DiFranco. Both his writing and films often reflect on themes of queerness and memory.