soundwaves.
primal and overproduced.
but it gets the juices flowing.
all the juices.
and even a suburban caucasian kid like me
knows how to move
when Aretha sings.
each note rings with an earnest urgency.
you feel it.
to the bone.
to the marrow.
and tomorrow's sorrows
don't have a chance
on the freeway of love.
roadkill to the thrill
of a little respect.
play that song again,
and before long,
you'll found out what you mean to me.


copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv)