Poem of the Week-Frigate

When we moved to West Hollywood in 1966

              My addiction to 45 singles had to be fed

              I found the Frigate Record store

              Easy to reach with my bicycle

              As my hands swept over the choices

              Knowing that my 50 cents allowance

              Had to make me choose

              The record that could survive

              Repeated listening

              Could Sony and Cher’s

              The Beat Goes On

              Do the job?

The Frigate not only had music

              Also, trinkets.

              The owner stared at me

              Getting inpatient if I lingered

              But he had the kind of soft face

              With Eyes that opened me up

Unlike the boys who bullied me

              At Fairfax Highschool

              I wished he was gay

One thought on “Poem of the Week-Frigate

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