Before there was Amy Winehouse: Saturday Soundtrack

Ode to Ronnie Spector

This curve
this upward knowing curve
I once heard in my youth.
I heard it on her mouth.
I know
you won't
believe me,
but
it sings,
just that curve sings,
like sirens
it sings.
I shivered in those solitudes
when I heard
the voice of
that half-mocking smile.
From the single
speaker on the dashboard:
the petition sings.
The promise sings.
The command sings.

Sunburned
skin of summer camp girls
advancing on awe struck eyes
of summer camp boys
singing Ronnie's song.
Boys scream and
flee certain captivity.

From out of the dark depths
this curve sings.
The goal
not bubblegum,
but,
corporeal,
mortal,
grave,
powerful,
and beautiful.
It sings and
I turn up the volume
in the big Cadillac,
driving down a white shell
Florida highway.
Between the palmettos,
air sticking to my skin,
under a torrid moon
I hear this curve.
The power of it over me.
I'll be your baby.