Smash your compact discs into several
shiny fragments, but they'll never
replace cassettes: one broken reel
could cover the length of a field,
tangled and crinkling like dry grass,
catching your sneaker like a sticker-bush
as you walked home, cutting across
the baseball diamond with your friends
with The Bangles on your headset stereo.
Amanda Laughtland lives in the suburbs of Seattle and teaches English part-time at Edmonds Community College. Her poems appear in recent issues of KNOCK, Literary Salt, QP, and the strange fruit.
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