among yellowing papers and cracked knick knacks,
you find where i was forgotten.
you find me still in my new plastic now dusty with a price tag of a dollar.
you take me home and break open my package slowly.
you always like to savor the good.
you remove me from my whiteness and examine my glossy obsidian.
no scratches— pure sound.
i sigh with the relief of being heard.
we are love together in the music.